Facing the Darkness
by charlotte30
Summary: After the war, Viktor finds he has a second chance with Hermione, but as her friends begin to die one by one, he must risk all to keep from losing her forever. Ron is portrayed badly and OOC at first, but there is an explanation for it .
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

In a simple, but cheerfully painted yellow kitchen, a petite brunette was methodically tidying up after her small family's evening dinner. To the casual observer, nothing would seem remotely amiss with her behavior. What was taking place inside the modest, two-story home would appear to be just another average scene of British domesticity that was played out nightly in every house up and down the quiet street just outside London. Looking upon her, one would never suspect the slight, unassuming girl was in actuality a capable witch who had spent the last year engaged in the resistance and ultimate destruction of a malicious band of power hungry witches and wizards bent on destroying the magical world she had become a part of at the tender age of ten.

While other Muggle girls her age were studying, partying and planning out their futures, this particular girl was researching and practicing curses and counter curses in a desperate attempt to protect herself and the people she loved. It would be difficult for the casual observer to believe that this slight young woman, who bore the unusual name of an ancient Greek princess, had been pivotal in the defeat of one of the greatest threats to the wizarding and non-wizarding worlds alike.

She paused in her work momentarily to impatiently secure her mass of soft brown curls behind her head in a loose knot and proceeded to wipe the last dinner plate, looking mournfully down at her water wrinkled fingers. Even though she was of legal age in the wizarding world and could now use magic when and where she pleased, barring any activities that would result in exposing her abilities to Muggles, she had elected to clean up the small kitchen by non-magical means. Her parents continued to be a bit jittery regarding magic and she had no desire to make them ill at ease in their own home. Looking down scornfully at her dishwater hands, she decided she would once again have to try and convince her parents to get a dishwasher, especially if they didn't feel comfortable with magic in the house. She smiled thinking this must be why Mrs. Weasley has such nice hands, she never had to get them wet cleaning up after all those kids running about the burrow. She quickly dismissed all thoughts of the Burrow, as they would undoubtedly conjure up images of the final harrowing evening she had spent there. She didn't care to think about that night right now. So instead she quickly looked around for any overlooked dishes to distract her.

She found it odd and slightly disconcerting to be doing something as mundane as washing dishes after all that had happened over the past couple of years. After so many years of planning and fighting Voldemort and his followers, the cloud of fear they had all lived under had abruptly ended with his final and resounding defeat. The few surviving death eaters that had temporarily eluded capture had since been rounded up and imprisoned and were no longer a conceivable threat to anyone. Those few collaborators and sympathizers that had, after careful scrutiny, been decreed to have been under the imperious curse and therefore not responsible for their actions, were paroled and everything was slowly returning to normal.

After the resounding fall of the death eaters, Hermione had returned home to be with her parents following the rather ugly incident with Ron during her brief stay at the Weasley's, only to find another battle was taking place in her own normally happy home. The cancer that was ravaging her mother was an invisible, but no less insidious monster than the one Hermione had faced. Finding her mother gaunt and bedridden upon her return home, and her father distraught and exhausted from caring for her, had been heartbreaking. She had spent several weeks in absolute denial before she had broken down and admitted to herself that her mother was slowly slipping away and no amount of pretending otherwise was going to change that cold fact. The guilt of not being there for them when they needed her the most, not even being aware of what was happening to her own mother, was overwhelming. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and struggled to push the disturbing thoughts of death from her thoughts as she carried a tray to her mother's room. She found her staring out the window adjacent to her bed without any discernible expression.

"Hi mum. It's time for your medicine and I brought you some hot chocolate."

Her mother smiled up at her only child weakly.

"Thank you sweetie. Its' good having you home again. I'm glad you finally graduated. Your father and I have missed you terribly."

Hermione smiled ruefully at the idea of her simply 'graduating'. She had told her parents nothing of what had transpired in the wizarding world and had no intention of worrying them with any of it now. Her mother needed all her strength and being informed of how much danger her daughter had been in would hardly be conducive to building her strength up. She had decided some time ago that it was best to just let them believe that she'd simply been away at school studying, like all the 'normal' Muggle teens in her neighborhood.

"Sit with me. I want to talk with you."

Hermione pulled the sofa chair, normally occupied by her father, closer to her bed and sat cross legged in front of her.

"So, tell me, how are things with your young man, Ron isn't it?"

The question caught Hermione off guard. She'd forgotten in her last hastily written letter, composed only days after the final battle, that she had written of Ron and her being together. She supposed that technically they were, for all of two weeks anyway.

The unexpected question caused the rather disturbing incident that had occurred shortly after their arrival at the Weasley's to replay in her mind, and she felt the same sick chill now that she had experienced then. As soon as they had 'officially' become a couple Ron's behavior towards her had begun to change dramatically. He was the same goofy Ron around his family and other friends, but when they were alone he instantly became increasingly petulant and domineering towards her. She had been confused by this inexplicable change, but had not been overly alarmed by it until the night of his 18th birthday when she realized she'd made a serious error in judgment.

Hermione had been perplexed when he led her away from the party taking place downstairs and into his room, casting a silencing charm as they entered, but had simply assumed he wanted to tell her something without being overheard. Her heart froze in her chest when he turned to her and rather crudely asked her if it wasn't about time that they shagged and demanded sex for his birthday present. They had been together only two weeks and she was not yet ready for sex when he had so suddenly just outright demanded it from her, as though it was his right now that they were dating. Up to that point in her life, the only physical experience she had with the opposite sex was passionate kisses and gentle caresses from a then 18-year-old Viktor Krum during the first year they spent together at Hogwarts, when she was just shy of 16. She had fond memories of those intimate moments shared at the edge of the Black Lake, but what Ron wanted from her was far more demanding and frightening than what Viktor been granted.

She had felt hurt when Ron responded with anger at her gentle refusal and she found herself momentarily stunned when, instead of accepting her refusal, he forced a fierce, painful kiss upon her, as he pushed her down hard on his bed, coldly commanding her to stop acting like a childish little girl. She trembled at the vivid memory of how he had angrily told her that she was his girlfriend now and she needed to start behaving like she knew it, and start handling his needs like a real girlfriend would. She had been downright terrified during the few brief moments he struggled with her for dominance, before she was finally able to push away from his groping and insistent hands. Only when he released one of her wrists in an attempt to unbutton her jeans, was she able to knock him off balance and scurry out of his room. His angry, obscenity-laden curses that followed her out still sounded clearly in her head. The thought that Ron would think it was acceptable to force himself on her when she wasn't ready, had frightened her badly. She had known a few girls back at the academy who had relationships that turned abusive, but she would never have believed Ron capable of such monstrous behavior. Now she realized that those girls had probably thought the exact same thing. Frightened and ashamed, she had quickly thrown her few belongings into her leather travel bag and had left the burrow to return home that same night, never to return.

She looked down at her mother who was patiently waiting with a curious and slightly hopeful expression for details regarding her relationship, and knew she couldn't burden her with such an unpleasant truth. She forced a smile on her face.

"Oh, we're not really together anymore Mum."

Her mother's smile faltered.

"Why? What happened? You seemed so happy about it in your letter."

"Nothing all that terrible mum. We were just too different that's all, argued a lot. He was too selfish, I was too bossy. Not a good combination."

"Maybe you can work things out. Relationships take work Hermione."

"It just wasn't meant to be Mum. I hear he's dating one of my old roommates now anyway. You remember Parvati I wrote you about a while back?"

"The Indian girl? The one who only cared about boys and clothes?"

Hermione cringed slightly remembering how enamored with boys and fashion Parvati had been. She had been quite full of herself back then, almost as though she believed she was as perfect as the Hindu goddess she was named after. She wondered if she was still as arrogant and how she felt about Ron's dating expectations.

"Did I write that? Well, I'm sure she's a lot more mature now. Maybe. Anyway they seem to be a couple now. So, that's that."

"Well, you are still very young sweetie. You'll find the right man for you one day."

Hermione doubted that sentiment immensely, but kept quiet so as not to disillusion her mother, who had always been a true romantic at heart. Hermione, however, was a realist who relied on facts, not sentiment in her judgments. She had long ago accepted several facts about herself that precluded the likelihood of ever having a man fall in love with her. After a hard appraisal, she recognized that she could be a bit bossy and impatient. She also knew she was not terribly pretty or fashionable like most girls her age. She preferred to read and study than shop or go out on dates. Not that she'd had a lot of offers in that arena. Due to her obvious deviation from the standards typically sought by the opposite sex, she had accepted the fact that the likelihood of her catching a man's interest was slim to none. Although, she often comforted herself with the fact that there had been one boy, or more accurately, one man, who had shown an interest, despite her faults. The memory of the large man with the thick Slavic accent that had given her her very first kiss and had looked at her with such open adoration in his dark, gentle eyes never failed to soothe her spirits.

As her mother began to get drowsy, she smiled softly as she allowed herself the luxury of once again replaying in her mind the one time she had discovered what is was like to have someone be attracted to her, how it had felt to spend time with someone who liked her just as she was, unkempt curls, analytic mind and all. She closed her eyes for a moment and could see the sweet, attractive Durmstrang champion who had inexplicably looked past the other pretty, flashier girls who would have given anything for a chance to be with him, to zero in on a plain and bookish Hermione Granger. For a long time, she had tried to ascertain why Viktor Krum, international Quidditch star of all people, had been interested in her when no one else was, but her practical mind had never come up with a satisfactory answer to that anomaly. She mulled it over for the millionth time since they met, until the medications took full effect and her mother drifted off to sleep next to her.

Once she was sure her mother was peacefully sleeping, Hermione carried her tray back downstairs and headed into the study to check on her father before she turned in for the night. She walked up behind him unnoticed, as he was engrossed in a small array of paperwork spread out on the study's large oak desk. She leaned over and read over his shoulder, prepared to tease him once more for his meticulous record keeping that she knew she had inherited from him right along with his practical mindset. The amusement slipped from her face as she realized the papers he was gravely sifting through were actually bills and overdue notices.

"Dad?"

He jumped slightly at her voice so close behind him.

"Hermione. I didn't hear you come in."

"Dad, what's all this?"

"Oh, just some bills."

She reached out and took one as he tried to slide them out of sight into the top drawer.

"Dad, these are all overdue."

He took the paper from her and gently squeezed her hand, as he slipped the bill into the drawer with the others.

"It's nothing to worry about honey. Things have gotten a little tight lately that's all."

Hermione silently berated herself for not grasping her family's current situation sooner. How could she be so naive? With neither of them working there was obviously no money coming into the house. Probably not for months now. How could she be so stupid not to have realized it before?

"Dad, how are you paying for all this and Mum's treatments with neither of you working?"

"We have savings, love. Not much, but we're getting by. Now stop frowning, you are too young to worry about such unpleasant matters. Why don't you get out of this house for a while. Go and visit your friends maybe."

"Trying to get rid of me?"

"Of course not. You're being back has made your mother and I very happy Hermione. But that doesn't mean you should be stuck here with us old folks day and night."

"I'm fine right here. Its nice being home. I want to be here. Good night Dad."

"Good night, Hermione. Sleep well."

She kissed him goodnight, having once more carefully avoided having to explain to him why she didn't go out more often, or at all for that matter. The simple truth was, she had nowhere to go. The handful of people she had allowed herself to get close to, were now occupied with starting careers, families, dating and otherwise rebuilding their lives, lives she really wasn't a major part of anymore. Everyone else seemed so sure what they wanted to do in life, while Hermione was still uncertain and carefully weighing her options. She had almost settled on accepting Professor McGonagall's offer of research assistant and had been starting to look forward to a quiet peaceful existence for a change. She had received numerous offers since the fall of Voldemort, some more lucrative, albeit flashy and, in her opinion, pointless than others. Everyone had tried to get her to accept the offer of auror training with Ron and Harry or an entry level ministry position and couldn't fathom why she would prefer a "lowly" research job, as Ron had called it, instead of something with the potential for advancement and continued glory.

After seeing the stack of unpaid bills in her parents study, she now realized that her coveted quiet and simple research position she was poised to accept was simply out of the question if more lucrative offers were on the table. What mattered now was financial practicality, or more bluntly, money. She needed money, as much as she could get, if she was going to take care of her family. If that meant she would have to accept one of the ministry's offers, so be it. Having made the decision to forego the simple path she craved in exchange for her family's security and well being, she headed upstairs to bed.

As Hermione was getting ready for bed she thought once more about her fathers unintentionally cutting comment about getting out and seeing her friends more. His words had made her keenly aware of how achingly lonely she really was. But with Harry off training to be an auror and Ginny on her way to becoming a healer at St. Mungos, they had little time for her now. The only other really close friend she had, or thought she had, was Ron, and she hoped never to have to lay eyes on him again.

When Ginny and Harry weren't working they were paired off somewhere, usually at the Burrow where, still unbeknownst to the two of them, Hermione would never be setting foot again. Harry, now completely taken with the youngest of the Weasley clan had easily melded into the chaotic household. Not wanting to detract from their newfound happiness, she had kept her reason for leaving so abruptly to herself. She had told Harry only that things weren't working out with Ron and she missed her parents. She didn't regret coming home and she loved being here with her parents after being away for so long, but she also missed being able to talk to someone without having to carefully censor her words. She could not talk to her parents about so many parts of her life and she missed having someone to confide in, someone to share her thoughts and fears with.

She was slipping her earrings off absently when her eye landed on the beautiful wooden keepsake box on her dresser. She ran her hand over the soft wood admiring its intricate design, remembering how she had received it as a birthday gift just last year, before everything went to hell. She found it difficult to fathom that it had only been a year ago when Viktor's owl, rumpled and fatigued, had startled her by unexpectedly appearing outside her window over summer break, carrying the small package.

It seemed like a lifetime ago when she and Viktor, who she realized now was her first real romantic interest, even though she hadn't recognized it as such at the time, had written to each other on an almost daily basis. Viktor had quickly engaged another owl in addition to his own to handle the frequency of their correspondence. They had quietly exchanged letters ever since the ill-fated tournament, right up until she had taken off with Harry and Ron a year ago. She had shared things in those letters that she had never spoken of to anyone else, not even Ginny, for fear of being ridiculed. Only to Viktor had she ever confessed her childish fear of the dark and how she had found the pitch black dorms frightening, as she had always been able to leave a light on at home. Only to Viktor had she told how she worried about her parents thinking she was a freak, due to her turning out to be a witch and how she still couldn't share much about the wizarding world with them, as it seemed to cause uncomfortable silences and nervous glances. It had been most definitely only with Viktor that she had been able to voice her dread of the daily encounters with Malfoy and his cronies, even though she pretended not to be bothered by them to everyone else. She had told him all of these secrets, secure in the knowledge that he would never make fun of her or make her feel stupid for voicing them like Ron often did.

Viktor in turn had confided in her as well. He had told her about his disdain for his mother's family and their pureblood rhetoric and how disappointed they had been in her choice of husband, as his father did not share their disgusting views. He told her how he always felt panicky upon entering the packed stadiums for games and having people staring at him with daunting expectations, and how he dreaded PR events, where he was always having to fend off screaming groupies. They had shared so much about themselves in their two years of parchment exchange. Having to sever that one emotional lifeline had been difficult and painful. She had always meant to resume that connection once everything had settled down, but so many things had intervened to keep that from happening.

Standing alone in her bedroom, the memories of how close they had been not so very long ago, elicited an overwhelming urge to reestablish that relationship. She knew she was being foolish. If he had wanted to renew his friendship with her she would have heard from him long before now. There were many things she didn't like about herself, but the one thing she took pride in was the fact that she definitely wasn't stupid. She had seen the article about his engagement a few months ago, soon after arriving at the Burrow. The moving image of the woman who stood proudly next to him looking disdainfully down at the people around her had shown her to be absolutely divine, with dark eyes, dark hair, olive skin, obviously some Bulgarian beauty who had stolen his heart. She was the kind of woman you would expect to see on a famous Quidditch star's arm.

In her final letter to him, she had explained how she would be out of touch for a while and had promised to write to him as soon as she could, but by the time things had settled, that engagement announcement had been published. She had been reading about how the Bulgarian team had qualified for the World Cup semifinals, when the social interest sidebar caught her eye and she discovered he was to be married. She felt it would be pointless to keep her promise after reading that announcement. She wasn't jealous exactly, she just felt silly writing to him after that. He'd moved on, he had found someone else to share his thoughts with, someone beautiful and confident. Why would he want to hear from her when he had an obviously more compatible woman in his life now?

She brushed out her unruly curls, and gently pushing a purring orange ball of fluff who was currently kneading holes in her pillow aside, curled up under the covers. She lay there for a long time, mentally flip-flopping between following her head or her heart. After carefully weighing the pros and cons of potentially humiliating herself by writing to a man who probably looked back on their relationship as nothing more than an adolescent fling, or worse, a simple pen pal who helped occupy his time, she finally surrendered and admitted to herself that she wanted to write to him, regardless of the potential humiliation factor. After all, it wasn't like she had never embarrassed herself around him before. She had constantly stumbled over her words and said the most asinine things that first year they spent together at Hogwarts. Either the language barrier precluded him from noticing or he simply overlooked her incompetence at basic social interaction. She suspected it was the latter of the two, as his English was quite good and he had always been incredibly kind to her. She looked at the blank parchment on her night stand as she gave herself a mental pep talk in hopes of bolstering her courage.

'Why not Hermione? Where's the harm?'

After all, he had always seemed to enjoy hearing from her and he was the one who initiated the whole letter writing thing in the first place when he surreptitiously slipped his address into her hand before he boarded his ship and headed back to Durmstrang so many years ago.

'What would be the harm in seeing if he still cares for me or not? Engaged men can still have friends can't they?'

Overwhelming loneliness and the frustration of unresolved loose ends in her life tipped the scale in her calculations in favor of writing to him, and she snatched the blank parchment she had been agonizing over for hours from the night stand and began to hastily put words to parchment before she had time to consider just how stupid and presumptuous she was being and changed her mind.

_Dear Viktor,_

_I know you were probably not expecting to hear from me after all this time. I am sorry for not writing to you sooner like I promised I would in my last letter. So many things have happened and some much time has passed since I last heard from you, that I wasn't sure you would care to hear from me at this point in your life. _

_I saw several articles about you in the British papers over the past few months. Congratulations on making it to the World Cup finals this year. Harry has procured several tickets to the London semifinal. Perhaps I will see you there. Congratulations also on your engagement. The article did not provide your fiancee's name but she is very beautiful. I am very happy for you. With Quidditch finals and an upcoming wedding I know you are very busy, so I will understand if you do not have time to respond. Just wanted you to know that I hadn't forgotten my promise._

_Hermione_

Without chancing rereading her words and losing her nerve, she immediately rolled the parchment, secured it with string and sent it on its way with Falon, the sweet brown owl she had recently procured who fetched her the weekly wizarding news and delivered occasional letters to Harry and Ginny, and sometimes to Professor McGonagall as well.

She leaned out the window slightly to watch him take flight and soar off into the darkness, praying she wouldn't regret her decision in the light of day.


	2. Chapter 2

Over a week after Hermione had stood at her open bedroom window and wistfully watched her letter soar off into the darkness, hundreds of miles away, in a large country manor in Eastern Europe, Viktor Krum was wearily greeting his mother. His face showed signs of exhaustion from being shuffled almost daily around the continent for the past six weeks. It was prime Quidditch season and he expected nothing different, but was still grateful for the few days reprieve that had been granted to him before the next grueling, pre-game practice. Brief Bulgarian words were exchanged as his diminutive mother pulled him insistently into the house.

"Hallo, Mama. You and Papa are well?"

He stooped down to kiss her cheek and waited for the inevitable maternal appraisal to begin. As her dark eyes quickly and efficiently took in every minute detail, from his countenance to his tone of voice, he submitted silently to this long-standing ritual, knowing full well it was best to just get it over with. To his knowledge no one had ever successfully managed to hide anything from his mother. Growing up, he had always believed that she had missed her true calling, as she would have made a most efficient high inquisitor. The ministry had definitely missed out on a great opportunity there. Granted he had been smart enough never to voice that opinion. He suppressed an amused smile at the image of her interrogating some hapless suspect. She finally responded to his greeting by sharing her findings in regards to his current appearance along with the standard, accusatory question regarding the cause of whatever she deemed to be lacking this time.

"You are pale. You have not been sleeping have you?"

Viktor sighed at his mother's apparent decision to go with the health lecture this time around. While not looking forward to it one iota, he had to admit the classic lecture regarding his eating and sleeping habits that she had begun to unleash upon him was far less irksome than the increasingly frequent lectures regarding his love life, or lack thereof. The fact that he had not yet found an acceptable woman to bring home had become the most recent bane of her existence. A week didn't go by when she didn't bring up the fact, either in writing or in person, that he was still unattached and pressuring him to resolve that unfortunate situation.

The last woman he brought home in an attempt to create the illusion he was following his mother's advice had never stood a chance. She was dismissed in his mother's eyes practically the minute she walked through the door. The piercing and distinctly negative look she had thrown at him, immediately conveyed that this woman had not, and never would, meet his mother's exacting requirements for her family. Not that he had ever intended her to be a permanent fixture. He had only invited Sonia in an attempt to temporarily placate his mother. His dubious plan for avoiding another lecture on settling down with a "respectable" girl had backfired dreadfully. His shameless subterfuge resulted only in an even longer than normal lecture regarding staying away from "those kind of girls".

Viktor had made no attempt to explain to her that her worries were unfounded, as those types of girls held absolutely no interest for him. He had dated several women over the past six months, all of whom had turned out to be just what they appeared; preening, narcissistic, glory seekers, who were far too eager to be seen on his arm or asked to his bed. He had slept with two of them, a fact he was not overly proud of, before he promptly realized that those brief encounters, however pleasant they may have been at the time, could not compensate for the lack of any real emotional connection.

He had kept all those thoughts to himself after Sonia's earlier than expected departure, while his mother had given him a good raking about his poor taste in women. He often wished, as he did at that moment, that he had not been an only child. Perhaps if he had brothers and sisters his Mama would have others to worry and fret over. He loved his mother dearly, but the constant doting and pressuring was a tad overbearing. He knew better than to express this sentiment though. If she didn't hex him for his disrespect, his father would do it on her behalf.

Truth be told, he knew his mother was right in her assumptions about what he needed. She knew, as he did, what was missing in the handful of women he'd tried to get close to. He wanted someone he could trust, someone he could share his thoughts with, without having to fear seeing it splashed across the papers the next morning, which had emphatically ended his last relationship after only two weeks. He wanted someone who was interested in him, not Viktor Krum the Quidditch Treasure. He had found such a girl once, and had been certain she would be his one day, but she had inexplicably slipped through his fingers. He scowled as images of a pretty witch with the most beautiful, unruly curls and quick wit that he had worked hard to suppress over the past year, fought their way into his thoughts.

His mother quickly noticed his expression change from resigned to dispirited and her voice, now softened at the sight of inexplicable sadness in her only child, brought him back to the present.

"Viktor, I am sorry. You are tired. We will talk later. Go and rest now."

He looked into his mother's concerned eyes and felt ashamed at his earlier annoyance of her doting.

"I am fine Mama."

"Well, dinner will be ready in an hour. Your father should be back by then. Oh, a letter came for you last week. Didn't see any sense in trying to have it forwarded with you still traveling every other day, probably would have just gotten lost in transit again. Knew you'd be here today so I left it in your room. Someone with your old address I guess. Probably one of your fan girls who hasn't been able to master how to write your new address. I imagine retaining two addresses in one's head would be tremendously difficult for some of those girls. Honestly, I'm surprised Sasha finds her way home at night."

"Her name is Sonia, Mama. And I would not know. You managed to frighten her away rather effectively."

His lips twitched in amusement as his mother's scandalized expression.

"I did no such thing! I only ask her basic questions. Any girl with a half a mind and a sliver of a backbone could have answered a few simple questions. You are much better off without that one, trust me. You have no need for a spineless, simpleton in your life."

He wisely chose not to voice the fact that in standard dating etiquette, having your date's mother interrogate you at the dinner table regarding how one could manage to hold a job when one spent all their time traipsing from Quidditch venue to Quidditch venue and how she possibly managed to stay warm being so scantily clad, was probably considered a faux pas in any culture. That was the last he had seen of Sonia and he was loathe to admit his mother had probably done him a favor.

"You are probably right Mama. I promise if letter is from Sonia I will make sure it is sufficiently punished for finding its way to your house."

"If I have to choose between sullen and sarcastic, I choose sending you to your room. I will see you at dinner."

Summarily dismissed for his cheekiness, Viktor took her advice and decided to get some rest before dinner and for the first time in several months headed up the wide staircase he had often flown down as a young boy, when his mother's back was turned anyway.

Viktor hadn't been living with his parents since he bought his own house nine months ago. He told his parents his unexpected purchase was a simple business investment, but in actuality it was purchased in the hopes of affording him some much needed peace and quiet. He had hoped it would provide him with an escape from both excessive mothering and his pureblood fanatic relatives who felt compelled to visit his parent's home and spew hatred on a regular basis. He had endured countless such vile discourses from his mother's side of the family throughout his youth. What was worse was watching his father cave to their beliefs in order to protect his mother's family standing. While his mother did not seem to share their prejudice, her family was important to her and the thought of being disowned was the only real fear he had ever seen in her. He understood why his parents permitted such hatred to enter their house, but he could no longer stomach listening to the pureblood rhetoric on a regular basis. Moving into his own house had provided an escape from all of that viciousness. Everyone he knew had his new address at this point, as did all his fans, since the papers had so graciously announced his new domicile to the world, so it was a mystery who would be sending a letter to him here after all this time.

Intrigued, he made his way to his old bedroom, which his mother had insisted on preserving for him. He picked up the rolled parchment lying on his pillow, noting with relief that it wasn't any bizarre, neon color the fan girls liked to use these days in an attempt to make their letter stand out from all the rest, and it didn't reek of perfume, so he was fairly certain it wasn't one of the standard fawning or worse, downright lewd fan letters.

His breathing ceased momentarily and he nearly dropped the parchment when he recognized the signature at the bottom, written in the same neat script as the hundreds of letters he still had secreted away in his bedroom closet. For a long while he had anxiously waited for the letter he now clutched in his hands. When it never arrived, he had given up hope of ever hearing from her again and had tried to resign himself to that fact, but had never been able to do away with her letters.

Letters which had abruptly stopped after the last, seemingly rushed one, which stated only that she would be out of contact for a while and not to worry if he didn't hear from her for a spell. That was it. No more letters ever arrived to join the rest of her carefully preserved correspondence. Later, he had of course read about the final battle that took place at Hogwarts the same as everyone else had, and had been dismayed at just how much danger she had really been in. He should have seen, should have paid more attention, but he hadn't. The signs had all been there, but he had either been too stupid or too self-centered to recognize them. She had told him bits and pieces of what was happening at Hogwarts before her letters stopped, and he picked up more fragments from the papers and Quidditch gossip, but had only pieced it all together after the fact, when it was too late to be of any actual help to her.

After seeing her in the papers along with Potter and that sniveling Weasley, he had thought several times about writing to her, maybe even traveling to England to see her, but was never able muster enough courage to do so. Weasley's obvious hold on her was not the cause of his reluctance. His hesitation stemmed from the incredible guilt and shame about having done nothing while Hermione and her friends fought to take down Lord Voldemort and his followers. She could have been killed while he played Quidditch, signed lucrative contracts and dated mindless groupies in a vain attempt to fill the void her departure had left in his life. Her lack of contact told him all he needed to know about how she felt in regards to his lack of support for the resistance. He had failed her.

He sat down on his old bed and nervously scanned the long-awaited letter he held in his hands, still uncertain of its content. A small smile threatened to erase his normal scowl as he read how she was going to the London match next month and that she would like to see him again. His heart dropped resoundingly though, as he read her congratulations on his engagement. A string of Bulgarian curses that would have earned him a good tongue-lashing from his mother had she heard, fell from his lips.

He quickly grabbed parchment and quill determined to erase this misconception and undo some damage that had been done by those lying press vultures that had hounded his every move since he was twelve.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I must admit I was very surprised to receive your letter. I have missed hearing from you and hoped one day you would write to me again. I read much of what happened at Hogwarts and was relieved to find out you are safe and well. I wish that I had been with you. Thank you for your kind words regarding making it to the semifinals. It seems somehow frivolous though compared to what you have done. As for the other matter of my engagement, please believe me when I tell you that this rumor has no truth to it. The lady in the picture was actually my younger cousin. I agree she is very beautiful, and believe me she knows it too, but not likely to be marrying her boring old cousin who once used a charm to turn her braids green anytime soon. I would very much like to see you again. With the London match still being two months away, perhaps you would not mind arranging something sooner than this. With your permission, I would very much like to see you as soon as possible, even if only for a few hours. If I remember correctly you still owe me a visit here. I will be at my parents' home for a few days and have also enclosed my new address if you should wish to contact me later._

_Viktor_

He sent his owl off immediately, knowing it would take several days to reach her and that she had been waiting for a response for over a week already while her letter lay unbeknownst to him in his family's house. He hoped she hadn't been hurt by the delay in response. He feared it would have been perceived as a lack of interest in replying to her and he had no wish to hurt her like that.

As his owl disappeared from sight, he thought once more about how he had lost the one person he had felt truly comfortable with, the one girl he had truly cared for. He had never told her he loved her. She had been very young when they met and he had been worried about frightening her away. So, he had bided his time, waiting for the right time to tell her, only to realize too late that he had lost his chance. He knew he had done the right thing in not pressuring her too soon, but fate had interceded and seemingly out of the blue he was being granted a second chance to claim the girl he had wanted for so long, and this time he was not going to mess things up.

--

Hermione was absent-mindedly flipping through her favorite arithmancy book by her bedroom window when she was startled by a dark and weary owl, tapping insistently at the frosted glass. She froze stock still for a long moment as she recognized the mass of feathers waiting impatiently for entrance. As she flung the window open, she felt the same surge of anticipation she had always felt whenever a new letter from Viktor arrived. She had owled Viktor over a week ago and had received no response, and had assumed he was not interested in resuming their friendship. She had pushed the flicker of hurt from his rejection aside and berated herself for acting upon such a silly notion in the first place. But now his owl stood before her, rumpled and angry at not being attended to sooner. She carefully extracted the letter from his talons and offered him some water before excitedly unrolling the parchment he had delivered.

Her nervous countenance turned into a soft smile when she read how he had missed her and wanted to see her right away instead of waiting for the London game. As she read further, she was momentarily stunned at the overwhelming relief she felt at discovering he was not engaged after all, unsure why she would feel such an emotion about learning he was still unattached. She wanted more than anything to finally fulfill her promise to visit him, but hesitated at the thought of leaving her mother right now. Her parents needed her. She was about to sadly decline his offer, but couldn't quite make herself put the words to parchment. She decided to check on her mother first to delay the inevitable.

"Mum? Are you feeling better?"

"Yes love. I'm feeling a little better today. Would you get dinner for your father tonight? He's been doing all the cooking, shopping, cleaning, everything and he's looking a bit tired today."

"Sure Mum."

Her mother glanced down at the parchment still clutched in her hand.

"You got a letter?"

"Yeah. From an old friend."

"Oh? From school?"

"Sort of. Do you remember Viktor? Viktor Krum?"

"Of course. The nice, young man who took you to that Christmas dance at the school years ago. The one who came here to visit you for the weekend the summer before last, right?"

She grinned remembering how her father had been less than thrilled to discover the 'boy' his daughter had been seeing was actually a rather worldly young man. Hermione had subtly left that out of her letters, knowing full well he might not approve. Viktor's personal appearance in the Granger living room had shattered her father's illusion of being introduced to a young boy, more along the lines of Ron and Harry. He had been instantly suspicious of Viktor's intentions towards his much younger daughter. Her mother, on the hand, had no such reservations about him.

"Yeah Mum, that's the one. We lost touch for awhile."

"Well what does he say?"

"He wants me to come and visit him for awhile. I promised him once that I would come to Bulgaria with him."

"When are you leaving?"

"Mum, I'm not going. I'm staying here with you and Dad."

"Hermione Elizabeth Granger, you will do no such thing. Your dad and I are fine. I want you to go out and have some fun while you still can."

"But Mum."

"No, I am still your mother and you are going. If I remember correctly he was quite taken with you."

Hermione rolled her eyes at her mother's silly romantic notions and the obvious joy she took in her less than subtle matchmaking for her only daughter.

"Mum, he's just a friend."

"Your father and I were 'only friends' for many years Hermione, before I realized what a catch he was and how much I would hate myself if I let him get away. The best relationships start out as friends, Hermione. Remember that."

"You're hopeless, Mum."

"Now, go straight back into your room, pick up a pen, or a quill, or whatever it is you write with, and tell him you would love to come and visit him. Go and put the young man out of his misery."

"I don't think he's in misery Mum."

"You never know, sweetie. Now go!"

Hermione kissed her mother's cheek and headed back to take her mother's advice. As she scribbled a brief note saying she would very much like to keep her promise to visit him, she felt more alive and joyful than she had in a very long time.

--

Just hours after receiving word from Hermione that she would soon be at his home, Viktor wandered about erratically casting cleaning spell after cleaning spell on an already immaculate, barely used house in preparation for her arrival. He now stood in the guest room seemingly unhappy with its bare, gray appearance.

'Merlin, it looks like a prison cell. She's going to hate it.'

He knew Hermione wasn't one for frills and superfluous decorations, but somehow knew the room was lacking for a young woman. He thought about his mother's house, which was always so bright and homey and the only thing he could come up with was that the room he had chosen for Hermione lacked color. A few quickly muttered color charms later he looked around hopefully, but was quickly dismayed by the clashing color scheme he had created and realized instead of looking feminine it more closely resembled the Muggle circus tent his father had taken him to see once when he was younger. Emphatically deciding that dull and dreary was better than stupid, he quickly reverted things back to their original color. He muttered out loud as he wracked his brain for something that would create a more feminine atmosphere.

"What do women like? Something pink perhaps? They always put girls in pink don't they?"

'No, he never remembered Hermione wearing anything pink. What did she wear?'

Try as he might, he could not remember a single thing, he had been too enamored with the girl herself to notice her clothes, beyond the fact that they were far more modest and tasteful than most of the other girls. He never quite understood how they could manage to take a standard issue school uniform and somehow make it look like it came from a brothel. Except Hermione, she had always looked both demure and beautiful whenever he saw her. A sudden image of her coming down the stairs in her satin dress robes to take his arm, invaded his thoughts.

"Blue, she wore blue to the ball. She looked beautiful in blue. Perhaps she would like a blue room."

He quickly cast another color charm, but an entirely blue room did not look any better than the multicolored nightmare he had created a few minutes ago. After changing it all back again, he thought maybe if he changed just one or two things, but found nothing in the room that would not look peculiar in blue. He looked out the window in utter defeat and saw the frozen remains of the previous owner's garden and he quickly settled on procuring some flowers for her room instead. His mother had always liked flowers, perhaps Hermione would as well. Funny, he'd never asked her about that. There were so many things he wanted to know about her, but didn't. Not yet anyway. He hoped to change that during her visit, if he could just keep her here long enough. To ensure this he had to do something to make the dreary cell he called a guest room more appealing.

Determined, he apparated to the small flower shop he had purchased from for his mother's birthday a few months back. The older witch behind the counter smiled bemusedly at the imposing man who had suddenly appeared in her shop, looking incredibly out of place and uncomfortable.

"Well, Mr. Krum, two visits in one year. My, my."

He breathed a sigh of relief at recognition of the same kind witch who had helped him pick out something for his mother and ambled over to her, trying to avoid the open stares of the handful of customers in the shop who had obviously recognized him already.

"I need..."

The witch leaned towards him expectantly.

"Flowers perhaps Mr. Krum?"

"Yes, please."

"For your mother?"

"No, for a...friend."

"A lady friend?"

"Yes."

"All right, but like I told you before, the flowers have to match the lady. What is your lady like?"

"She is..."

A slight blush crept up his cheeks as he stumbled to answer the unexpected question.

"Oh come now, you must know something about her if you're buying her flowers."

"She is very pretty, very kind, sweet person."

"One of your fan girls perhaps?"

A scowl replaced the hint of a smile as the image of Hermione was replaced with that of the scantily clad, lewd girls who followed him from venue to venue.

"No. She is nothing like them. She has no interest in Quidditch. She likes to read, she is very smart person. Very brave as well."

"Well now that wasn't so hard. I think I can come up with something for such a remarkable girl. Does she have a favorite color perhaps?"

Viktor suddenly flashed back to the time he walked with her by the Black Lake at Hogwarts and remembered how her eyes gazed at the water. It was the one and only sunny day he had experienced that year and the water had foregone its usual dark and murky color and reflected the blue skies brilliantly. She had stared at it almost reverently and told him what a beautiful color she thought it was. Combining that information with the earlier memory of her Yule Ball gown made him fairly confident in his answer.

"Blue. Like lake or sky perhaps."

"Lovely. Wait right here."

Less than ten minutes later Viktor was admiring the cornflower blue and white flowers that he had placed in the guest room and felt that while it still didn't render it the homiest of accommodations, it was a definite improvement. At least it had a nice view from the third floor balcony. Hopefully she wasn't afraid of heights. He only recalled her being afraid of the dark. He thought about the fear she had confessed to him, the fear that he was pretty sure no one else knew about, and considered fetching additional candles for her room. The skies were fairly overcast this time of year and without any visible stars it tended to get very dark at night. It would be disconcerting enough for her have to wake up in a strange place without having her worst fear added into the mix. His eyes fell once more upon the cascading flowers and he had a sudden inspiration on how to diminish her fears. A quick wave of his wand and a muttered illumination charm taught to him by his grandmother long ago caused the flowers to shimmer slightly and then return to normal, as the magic settled into the soft petals, lying dormant until its power was needed. Noting the hour, he cast one last nervous glance around the room, and went downstairs to await her imminent arrival.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione hesitated for a long moment as she beheld the rather imposing house that now towered before her. Taking in the lavish stone structure, she wondered briefly if she had perhaps misread the address Viktor had sent her. She had always gathered from tidbits of information he let slip from time to time that he came from a wealthy family and had undoubtedly compiled a small fortune in his own right, but that fact hadn't really hit home until this moment. Unable to equate the quiet and reserved Viktor she knew with such a grandiose home, she paused uncertainly at the base of the solid stone steps that wound their way to the front door.

Viktor had never really talked about money when they were together. Nor had he ever displayed the pretentious airs of so many others from his wizarding background. Hermione thought ruefully that Viktor could have easily given Malfoy and his clan a lesson or two in class. Hermione's family had never been hurting for money by Muggle standards, until now that is, but her modest home could not begin to compare to the one now in front of her and she felt a bit intimidated by the air of old wizarding grandeur it exuded. Her first gut reaction to the affluence in front of her had been a feeling of insignificance. Irritated by allowing herself to be intimidated she shrugged off her self-doubt and briskly climbed the stones steps berating herself for her unusual timidity all the way to the door.

'For God's sake Hermione. It's just a house. Viktor's house. You're here to see Viktor. Nothing's changed. He obviously doesn't mind your class background or lack of wizarding bloodlines, so why should you? Don't just stand there gawking.'

She knew why she had hesitated and it angered her. She had hesitated for the same reason she had felt uneasy when he first approached her at the academy, the same reason she had regarded him with suspicion when he asked her to the Yule Ball and had sought her company afterwards, the same reason she never actually believed he would write to her even though he said he would. As much as she hated to admit it, she felt unworthy of his attentions and was consequently suspicious of them.

Hermione had always felt confident relying on her proven assets of intelligence and courage, knowing these were where she truly excelled. She had always been content with who she was, but had never expected someone like Viktor to appreciate those qualities as well, and had been immediately suspicious of his interest in her.

Like all girls her age, she couldn't avoid the occasional subconscious comparison to her peers, who she had easily deemed to be prettier and more popular than her. She knew it was those characteristics that men found desirable and from time to time felt a twinge of envy. It didn't help matters that anytime she began to see herself as pretty and desirable, Malfoy and his Slytherin cronies could be counted on to assure her otherwise. While she knew they only wanted to hurt her, hearing something long enough makes its' mark on one's subconscious, regardless of its legitimacy. It had taken a long time for her to come to terms with the fact that Viktor liked her just as she was, liked her because of what she was, even if she never quite understood why. She wasn't about to let her old insecurities she'd thought were long vanquished keep her from reuniting with the one person who had always made her feel worthy and desirable.

Determined, she boldly knocked twice on the heavy oak door and prepared to wait. She was slightly startled when Viktor opened the door immediately as though he had been lurking just inside.

For a long moment they simply stared at one another. She felt her gaze unconsciously sweep over his familiar, rugged physique and was startled by the immediate and powerful attraction she felt in his presence, an attraction she hadn't felt since the last time they were together. She tried to compose herself enough to speak, but was momentarily frozen by those piercing, dark eyes she knew so well, which were once more gazing down at her with such open affection that even she couldn't miss it. Under his intense gaze she suddenly had the shallow wish that she had selected more flattering attire and resisted the urge to smooth her sweater down. Instead she forced herself to break the awkward silence that lingered between them.

"Hello Viktor."

Her soft, tentative voice broke the trance that seeing her after so long had caused and he flushed at the realization of how incredibly rude his behavior must seem to her. He silently cursed his stupidity at leaving her standing on his doorstep while he stared at her like a complete imbecile. His mother would have been mortified by his lack of basic manners, but at that first moment his thoughts were overwhelmed by vivid memories of how good she had felt in his arms, how soft her skin had felt beneath his fingers, how warm her lips had felt beneath his not so very long ago. He quickly pushed those memories away and tried to compensate for his rather rude first impression.

"Hermione. Please come in."

A hundred thoughts swam through his head in the few seconds it took for her to pass tantalizingly close as she entered his house.

'Merlin, she is still so beautiful. She's finally here, in my home, with me. Don't mess this up Viktor. Not this time.'

As Hermione looked around the entryway of his house, she was distracted by the rather pleasant, but disconcerting sensation of large, warm hands brushing lightly against her shoulders as he gently took her cloak and travel satchel.

"Come, I vill show room. You're room."

Viktor cringed at his butchery of her language. He hadn't had any reason to speak English in some time and hadn't realized how rusty he had become. He could speak English quite fluently when he put his mind to it and now was hardly the time to be complacent about it.

Hermione followed him as he carried her things up the large staircase and led her past several heavy, oak doors until he finally stopped and opened the door to a large bedroom he had obviously selected for her. Along the way, Hermione noted the same emptiness within the house as she had sensed from outside, a familiar void that she couldn't quite pinpoint. While the rooms were filled with costly furnishings and tapestries one would expect to find in such a house, they still seemed devoid of any human touch, as though no one had ever stayed within these walls long enough to leave any kind of personal imprint. As they reached the guest room, she finally identified the familiarity she felt. The house reminded her of a ritzy hotel she'd stayed at once, extremely elegant, but lacking the comforting sense of home. As he had opened the door she decided it was likely only due to the fact that he had only recently taken up residence here and hadn't yet had the time to render the place distinctly his.

She scanned the large, bedroom appreciatively, as Viktor placed her cloak and bag on the high wooden bed. While it held the same untouched quality as the rest of the house, the setting sunlight streaming through the balcony across the polished wood floor and heavy oak furniture was stunning. She took all of this in quickly before her eyes fell upon the most exquisite flowers that had been placed next to the bed. Their delicate and free flowing petals stood in stark contrast to the rest of the pristine, orderly room and she speculated for a moment on the possibility he had purchased them with her in mind. She had seen no other such touches in any of the other rooms and they were even in her favorite color. Muttering to herself, she quickly discarded the silly notion. She didn't remember ever telling him her favorite color, so it had to be a coincidence, but she couldn't deny the warmth she had felt at the possibility of such a romantic gesture.

"Mum must be rubbing off on me."

Viktor turned towards her trying to make out her barely audible muttering.

"Sorry? Did you say something Hermione?"

Hermione blushed slightly at having been caught talking to herself.

"No, nothing."

As she silently chided herself, she noticed Viktor's eyes cloud slightly and she was perplexed by the almost anxious look on his face. He walked closer to her and she could see his hesitation. After a few moments his voice, soft and wavering reached her.

"Is OK? The room... is OK?"

Hermione was taken aback by his nervous question.

'He's worried I don't like the room?'

His concern for something so seemingly trivial touched her and she was suddenly reminded of how he had always been overly concerned for her comfort. A long dormant memory flashed in her mind and she repressed a smile at the memory of how absolutely mortified he had been during the last walk she had taken with him along the Black Lake. He had invited her in a spontaneous attempt to avoid the constant barrage of fan girls that shadowed his every move without considering how dreadfully cold, at least by British standards, it was that afternoon. Everyone else had been hunkered down by the fireplaces, leaving a completely deserted stretch along the lake. Grateful for the chance to be alone with him, she had barely noticed her frozen fingers and icy skin. She was soon shivering from the cold gusts sweeping across the icy waters that whipped her soft curls around her face. Despite her protests to the contrary he had quickly wrapped her in his much thicker cloak and taken her directly back to the castle, angry with himself for not realizing she was not as desensitized to the chill as he was.

She smiled now at the realization that he hadn't changed a bit since that day, he was still the same overprotective Viktor, and she quickly tried to put his mind at ease.

"It's beautiful Viktor. Thank you."

Relief spread across his face and his worried features softened noticeably at the sincerity in her voice and the warmth that now filled her eyes.

Reassured, he left her to get settled in. She quickly placed her few changes of clothes in the dresser and sat down on the bed for a moment to collect her thoughts. She had been taken aback by the strong pull of attraction she had felt since her arrival, the same disquieting emotion she had felt as a teenager. She was fairly confident that the attraction she felt was still mutual by the almost longing way he had looked at her since her arrival. She was beginning to think that perhaps staying here alone with him in his house wasn't the best idea. Her anxiety did not stem from any mistrust of Viktor or his intentions. She trusted him and she knew in her heart he would never try to hurt her like Ron had. On the contrary, her main worry was that she herself would do or say something she would regret or that would make him think less of her. The last thing she needed was for him to think she was as bad as all those vain girls who had thrown themselves at him at every turn. She took a deep breath, brushed her concerns aside and headed back downstairs to find Viktor patiently waiting. Waiting for her, as he always had been.

"I am very happy you are here Hermione. I haff missed you."

"I've missed you too Viktor. I'm sorry it took so long for me to keep my promise."

"It does not matter. You are here now. Is getting late. Vould you like to go out for dinner? I can not guarantee ve vill not be interrupted and I must varn you that your picture may end up in the paper by morning. With Cup finals coming up, reporters haff been very...improper."

The idea of being gawked at and plastered all over the papers was less than appealing and she could see he dreaded it as well, although he tried to hide it for her sake.

"Why don't we just eat here? You must have something edible lurking in the kitchen."

He seemed relieved by her answer. He wanted to impress her and wasn't sure asking her to eat something he had dubiously prepared in lieu of a proper dinner was going to help in that arena, but he was even less inclined to expose her to relentless reporters, who had no respect for personal boundaries or an ounce of journalistic integrity.

"I vould like that as vell, but I must varn you, I am very bad cook. My mother banned me from the kitchen many years ago."

She threw him a skeptical look.

"She did not."

"Yes, she really did. I try to convince her it vas only very small fire, but I think she overreact. Most of the time I am traveling and eat with the team, I haff only recently been forced to fend for myself vhen I am at home now. Am still very bad, but you can blame my Mama for not letting me practice more vhen I vas younger."

"Well, I'm not so good at it either, but my parents managed to choke down the dinner I made last night, and I never set anything on fire, so let's just give it a shot, shall we?"

As they investigated the cabinets together, all vestiges of awkwardness from such a long separation melted away and they quickly found themselves as comfortable together as they had always been. Laughter rang through Viktor's kitchen as they scrounged items and made dinner together. As they cooked and ate together he asked her questions about anything and everything, more hungry for every last detail about her than he was for food. As they were companionably cleaning up the rather extensive mess they had made, he mustered the courage to ask the one question he had been dreading the answer to. He almost didn't ask in fear his hopes of rekindling their relationship would be shattered by the revelation she was still seeing Weasley as all the papers had indicated.

"Vhat about Harry and Ron? How are they?"

"Oh, Harry's just great. He's training to be an auror and he's living with Ginny Weasley, never happier from what I can tell. I haven't seen them in a while though."

A flicker of hope shot through him at her confession of not seeing him lately. If he was living at the Weasley's that meant she hadn't seen Weasley lately either, didn't it?

He did his utmost to keep his tone nonchalant.

"And Veasley?"

After a long pause, she answered him with what seemed to be a carefully crafted answer.

"He's working with Harry."

His protective instincts kicked in at the tinge of hurt in her voice and he felt an overwhelming urge to protect her, from what exactly he wasn't sure, but he knew something was not right.

"Is something vrong Hermione?"

"No. We had a bit of a... disagreement, that's all."

Viktor noted the brief flicker of pain in her eyes and was certain there was more to it than a simple disagreement but chose not too push the matter, as she was obviously distressed by it. There would be time to figure out what the little bastard had done to hurt her. If things worked out the way he hoped, there would be all the time in the world. While it hurt to see her unhappy, he still took solace in discovering she was no longer so enamored with Weasley as she once was. Wanting to see her smile once more, he tried to change the topic of conversation as she was obviously not ready to talk about what had happened between the two of them.

"Vhat about you? Vhat are you planning to do now that you are finished vith school and haff saved the vizarding world?"

His efforts to lighten the mood were rewarded with the return of her sweet smile.

"Very funny. Honestly, I'm not sure. The ministry has offered me a position, but..."

"But vhat? Is rare for one so young to be given an offer like that. Is good, no?"

"Yes, I suppose it is. I don't know. I guess I don't really want to do anything that public. I was going to go work with McGonagall. Something quiet and mundane and boring as Ron called it. But I guess that's not going to happen, not for awhile anyway."

"Vhy not? If that is vhat you vant, you should do this."

"I can't. Not now."

Her downcast eyes disturbed him greatly and he knew something was troubling her, something that for once had nothing to do with Weasley.

"I don't understand. Vhy can you not take the position you vant? You haff earned it."

She paused thinking of the two very special reasons sitting together at home that kept her from thinking only of herself now.

"Well, for one thing, I need the money they're offering."

Viktor snorted derisively.

"Money is not that important. Trust me."

"Said the man who has as many galleons in Gringott's as he has fans."

He cringed noticeably at her teasing remark.

"Do not remind me. Seriously though, vhy do you suddenly care about making money? Haff you acquired a new appreciation for jewels and fancy designer clothes that I should know about before your next birthday?"

She smiled at his gentle teasing and the underlying certainty that he really would buy her expensive clothes and jewelry if he thought it would make her happy.

"Sadly, no. I'm still the same plain and boring girl as before. It's not for me. My parents need it, not me."

Viktor's consternation at the insult she had just hurled at herself was overshadowed by his confusion at her second comment. He had only seen her parents once but they did not seem to be hurting financially. She had explained to him during his visit to her home that they were some kind of healers who fixed Muggle's teeth. They seemed to be making fairly good money, by Muggle standards, doing this and he wondered what had changed to make Hermione concerned about wealth.

"Vhy is this? Muggles no longer haff teeth fixed in the vay you told me?"

Hermione laughed softly remembering how hard it had been to explain her parent's profession in terms Viktor would understand. He had been desperate to impress her father who had seemed to take an instant dislike of him during his brief visit to her home and was sure not having a clue about what he did for a living would not help his situation no matter what Hermione said to the contrary. So she had found herself carefully explaining the mysterious art of dentistry as Viktor had listened intently trying so hard to understand such a foreign and mysterious concept.

"Of course. But they aren't working right now. My mother...she's sick."

The teasing smile was replaced with concern as he noted the hesitant way she spoke of her mother, as though it hurt to speak of her.

"Sick? Vhat is vrong?"

"She has cancer. It's a Muggle disease. A serious one. Wizards rarely suffer from it. "

"Yes, I have heard of this, some half-bloods suffer from this as well. Is curable no?"

"For half bloods, yes. For Muggles, sometimes, not always. She's...not doing very well. Dad has stopped working to take care of her."

Viktor instantly regretted teasing her about wanting money for frivolous desires. He should have known Hermione would have a good reason for such a concern and he suddenly felt guilty for the amount of money he was raking in every month just for playing Quidditch.

"So you are going to take job you do not vant to take care of your family?"

"Something like that. They've pretty much drained their bank accounts to pay for the medical bills. They don't think I know how badly, though."

"Hermione, you do not need to take job you hate. I have more money than I could ever use."

"Uh-uh. I'm not taking your money Viktor. Absolutely not. "

"Vhy not? Is only money."

"Because its yours, that's why."

He looked at her with a puzzled expression.

"That makes no sense vhatsoever. I get it for playing game Hermione. I shove into account I rarely ever use."

"Viktor you've worked every bit as much as anyone for what you have, you've earned that money. Besides you'll find a use for it eventually."

"Not likely. My parents are retired now, but they haff no need of any of it either. If one has no use for it than vhat is the point in haffing it?"

"You wouldn't say that if you didn't have it."

"I suppose."

Hermione hid a smile at his sulking tone. Viktor was quite possibly the only man on Earth who would be truly unhappy because no one would take his money. Weird, Ron never wanted anyone to know his parents were poor and Viktor was ashamed because he wasn't. She decided she better change the subject, knowing his privileged background was a touchy issue for him.

"Your parents? They are both well?"

"Yes, I will likely be receiving orders to make another appearance soon. My Mama she has not given me lecture in several days now. Vould you like to come vith me? Keep her at bay for me? I vould like for you to meet them."

Viktor tried to keep his tone casual, but wanted very much to introduce her to his family. He was certain not even his Mama could not find fault with Hermione and he secretly hoped being asked to meet his parents would subtly convey his desire to form a more permanent relationship with her. He knew his parents would welcome her. His only concern was how to shield her from his mother's malevolent family. He cared not at all what they thought of him falling in love with a Muggle born, but was afraid when they discovered her bloodlines they would be cruel towards her. He didn't want her to be hurt or to associate him with pureblood fanatics. He would just have to make damn sure none of them were likely to come calling while she was there.

"Viktor, you're parents want to see you, not me."

"Not necessarily. They are very concerned I never bring anyone home. They think I sit here all alone too much."

"Do you?"

"Probably. I guarantee the first thing my mother vill say is "vhy are you not seeing anyvone? Vhy do ve haff no grandchildren?"

"Sounds familiar. Our mother's sound a lot alike in that regard. You'd think I'd kicked her the way she looked at me when I told her I wasn't with Ron anymore."

Viktor tucked that small bit of information she let slip away in his head. They had been together. A list of questions whirled through his mind at that unintended revelation; when, for how long, what had he done to cause her to turn away from him? Viktor had never liked Weasley and he was sure if he found out he had intentionally hurt her, he would have to have a serious discussion with him about that situation.

"I haff idea. Perhaps I should take that money out of Gringott's and rent some grandchildren for both of our mothers to get them off our backs for avhile."

Hermione laughed at the boyish grin on his face as a result of finally coming up with a satisfying way to spend his money. Her mirth was short-lived though, as the mention of mothers sent another wave of guilt through her for laughing and enjoying Viktor's company while her mother lay at home suffering. The disturbing image caused her joy to quickly dissolve.

Viktor frowned as her sweet, intoxicating smile abruptly slipped away, replaced by something he couldn't quite decipher. It had happened several times over the course of the evening. One minute she would be smiling or laughing with him and the next she would look away almost as if ashamed.

"Hermione, something is vrong?"

"No, it's nothing."

She saw the skeptical look in his eyes and realized trying to lie to Viktor was as pointless now as it had always been. He could always read her emotions so easily. His perceptive nature had been disconcerting when she was younger, but now it was somehow reassuring. It was comforting to have someone who was so attuned to her emotions.

"Nothing's wrong, really. I just..."

He moved closer to her and gently brushed a wayward tendril from her face.

"There is something. Please talk to me."

"I just... I feel a bit guilty I guess."

"Guilty? For vhat?"

She looked up into his eyes, eyes that were filled with both unmasked affection and concern. She felt so incredibly safe under his warm gaze and knew he was still the one person she could confide in without reservation.

"For being happy, while my mother..."

Viktor's heart clenched as her voice wavered and her beautiful brown eyes filled with tears.

"Hermione, your mother vould vant you to be happy. You're being miserable vill not help her. If she is like my mother, it vould only vorry her, no?"

"I guess. Maybe."

"She is your mother. Mother's are strange that vay. Trust me, I haff vone of strangest mothers in Europe."

She smiled up at him marveling at how he always managed to make her feel better so quickly. As he gently kissed her forehead, she realized that he was now close enough that she could feel the heat from his body and her thoughts shifted rapidly. She watched as his eyes darkened slightly and thought for a moment he was going to kiss her. She hadn't expected this sudden turn of events and stiffened slightly.

Viktor hadn't meant to move that close to her. He had kissed her forehead in an innocent attempt to comfort her, but realized too late that being that close to her was not the wisest idea. Her soft skin beneath his lips, mixed with the light scent of lavender from her curls had been intoxicating and at that moment he had wanted nothing more than to feel her lips against his own. Sensing her trepidation, he silently cursed himself for being so forward with her. She'd been here less than a day and he was trying to kiss her. What must she think of him? In an effort to redeem himself he moved away slightly turning his attention away from her lips and instead gently laced her fingers in his and kissed the back of her hand.

"Is late. If you like I vill show you around tomorrow. If ve leave early in morning, vill be less likely to run into reporters."

"I'd like that."

Having diffused his potential misstep, he walked her to the guest room and left only after making her promise to wake him if she needed anything.

Feeling better than she had in many weeks, Hermione began to get ready for bed. After just one evening with Viktor she felt the burdens she had been carrying beginning to lift and was thankful she had mustered the courage to write to him. She brushed her hair out, taming the unruly locks as best she could, and placed the ivory brush next to the cut glass vase filled with the exquisite flowers she had admired earlier. The earlier feeling that he had procured that lovely arrangement just for her crossed her thoughts and she smiled softly as she realized that scenario was becoming more and more likely if the kiss they had almost shared in his kitchen was any indication of his feelings for her.

She lay down under the soft covers and took a steadying breath as she always did before the lights went out, chastising herself for still having such a infantile fear of the dark. She considered leaving the candles lit, but decided with her luck she would knock them over and burn Viktor's house to the ground. Before she could allow her fear to get the better of her and change her mind, she quickly blew out the last candle by her bed, clutching her wand in case nerves forced her to briefly use the Lumos charm as she often had in the dorms, much to Parvati's annoyance. She was sure she had missed a candle somewhere, as there was still a soft glow emanating throughout the room.

Once her eyes adjusted to the low light she was puzzled to find that the soft glow was not originating from any of the waxy candles, but from the flowers next to her bed. For a moment she thought she was imagining things, but soon determined that the soft petals were indeed shimmering softly with the most exquisite and peaceful blue/white glow. The normally practical and unsentimental witch was overcome with emotion by the mesmerizing sight along with the newfound certainty that not only had he indeed procured those flowers just for her, but he had actually remembered her once confessing her fear of the dark and had taken measures to shield her from it.

Bathed in the soft hue of the charmed petals, she drifted easily off to sleep comforted by the absolute certainty that this sweet and simple gesture was far more indicative of his regard for her than any words could ever be. Viktor had never been overly loquacious, but his actions had never left her in doubt of his feelings for her. Feelings that he obviously still harbored even after all this time. How could she have ever exchanged that quiet, solid affection for a schoolgirl infatuation with someone who never really cared for her, not the way Viktor did. She had wasted so much time chasing after a selfish boy who cared only for himself when Viktor would have lavished true affection upon her all that time. Determined to correct her past mistakes and make the most of the chance that he was inexplicably offering to her once more, she drifted peacefully to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

On the eighth morning of her stay with Viktor, Hermione had arisen earlier than usual in order to see him off to the Quidditch field. In her rush to make sure she didn't miss him, she had managed to beat him downstairs and was now waiting patiently for him to join her. She had originally intended to spend just a day or two with Viktor and then take up her responsibilities at home, but had managed to find excuse after excuse to stay just one more day. One more day had somehow turned into eight carefree days in Viktor's company.

They rarely ventured far from Viktor's home, due to his ever present followers and intrusive reporters, but Hermione minded not at all. He had stoically weathered the barrage of gawkers in order to escort her to several museums and shown her several small villages and the bustling city of Sofia over the past week. As much as she had enjoyed their sightseeing, she was more than content to simply wander across the grounds until she was too cold to be outside any longer and then hunker down in front of the crackling fireplace with him. They had spent hours in front of that fire, sometimes talking, sometimes just quietly enjoying being close to one another. She felt so at ease with him that there was no need for mindless activities to distract them or superfluous conversation to fill the silence. For the first time in months she no longer felt alone.

As she watched Viktor descend the staircase she tried arduously not to stare as he strode down the stairs in full Quidditch uniform. She hadn't seen him in full uniform in some time now and was suddenly reminded of the reason all those girls practically swooned in the stands. She quickly decided that seeing him like this was definitely worth such an early morning.

Viktor was not remotely happy about the last minute summons by his coach and had grudgingly awoken at dawn to dress and head out to the field for the mandatory extra practice. He had no desire to leave Hermione to attend a superfluous practice session just because his coach was getting jittery about the upcoming match against Ireland. He thought about asking her to come along, but finally conceded the fact that it was far too cold for her to stand outside for hours and that she would be bored to tears anyway. Even so, he was reluctant to leave her all alone for the entire morning.

'What kind of man invites a woman to his house and then leaves her there all by herself?'

His mood lightened considerably as he saw her waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs and was now certain the offer he had for her would be far more appropriate and enjoyable for her than shivering in the cold for hours on end watching a bunch of angry Quidditch players argue and shove one another around the stadium.

Hermione knew he wasn't thrilled about leaving her alone for the day, She had assured him she could keep herself occupied, so was a bit surprised when instead of heading for the door as she expected, he walked straight over to her, enveloped her hand in his and gently pulled her towards the stairs.

"Come, I vould like to show you something before I go."

No one other than Viktor had ever held her hand just for the sake of holding her hand. That was one of things she had missed the most about him. He was always a very tactile being and had constantly found ways to touch her hair, her shoulders, her hands. The physical attention he lavished on her had always made her feel so loved. The feel of his warm, calloused hand once more dwarfing hers was heavenly and at that moment she would have followed him anywhere. She simply smiled at the suspicious gleam in his eyes and allowed him to lead her to a room she hadn't been in yet. She had assumed it was just another guest room and hadn't given it much consideration until now. She looked up at him curiously as he turned to her without opening the door, a boyish grin plastered on his face.

"Close your eyes."

"Why?"

"Please, you vill see. Close eyes. No cheating!"

She smiled at his mock sternness and obligingly closed her eyes in complete trust as she allowed him to lead her blindly into the room. He stopped and turned towards her, his fingers still laced in hers.

"You can open eyes now."

Hermione gasped as her eyes opened to a large room filled from top to bottom with mahogany bookshelves. Books, from the very old and yellowed to the newest, crispest of parchments filled every conceivable space on those shelves and even spilled over into neat stacks on the floor. The bound parchments were in absolute pristine condition, with only a slight layer of dust that betrayed their recent lack of usage and care. She gazed around the room in wonder for a long moment before she was able to utter a sentence.

"Viktor, where did you get all of these?"

He watched her as she lovingly ran her small hand over the closest shelf. He had expected this reaction, but was still amazed at her almost reverent expression as she took in his secret treasure.

"The previous owner collected all of them. Vhen he died last year his relatives put them on the market along vith the house. They did not vant them I guess."

"That's so sad. It must have taken years for him to collect all of this. How could anyone not want these?"

Viktor smiled at her warmly. He adored the way her eyes lighted up like that. He had seen that expression often. Whenever she found some new bit of information or a fact previously unknown to her, her eyes would burn with a fierce light. It was that light that first drew him to her. That rare thirst for knowledge and joy of learning she exhibited had been a sight to behold. He had never seen such intensity before and it had immediately intrigued him.

"I am glad you like it. I thought it vould give you something to do vhile I am gone, for a little vhile anyvay."

"A little while? Are you kidding? I could stay in this room for months and never get bored."

The thought of her staying with him for months brought a soft smile to his normally impassive face. He wanted her to stay for months, years actually, but kept that selfish desire to himself, knowing now was not the time for heartfelt confessions. If he had learned anything useful from Quidditch, it was that timing was everything.

"Viktor, why is everything so dusty?"

Hermione was concerned when his face fell slightly and he looked at her like she had caught him at something.

"I do not come in here very much."

"Oh? Why not? You used to read quite a bit."

Viktor looked sheepishly at the floor and his response was low and soft.

"This room...these books...they reminded me of you. It...hurt to be in here. So I close room up. But I thought you vould like it, so I reopen it this morning."

Hermione struggled to speak over the lump forming in her throat.

"I do like it Viktor. I love it. Thank you."

He reached up and caressed her cheek tenderly with the backs of his fingers.

"I am glad. I vill be back as soon as I can."

Assured that Hermione would not be waiting around with nothing to occupy her all morning, Viktor headed out with a completely different mindset than normal. He usually couldn't wait to get out of his empty house and out onto the practice field, but now he couldn't wait to get back home, now that his house was not quite so empty.

In just one week, Hermione had changed everything and he willingly embraced that change. He didn't want to go back to having nothing to look forward to other than Quidditch. In the few short days she had been here, his house had somehow transformed into an actual home, instead of just a place he sought for escape. All about the house were telltale signs of its new occupant. Just last night he had smiled happily as he noticed a worn book on Arithmancy forgotten on the kitchen counter. The little constant reminders of her presence were somehow comforting and the thought of them disappearing was unbearable. Her presence had changed everything. Simple things he had never given a thought to before, eating, talking, all meant something now that she was here to share it all with. He had found something better than Quidditch, something worth coming home for, at least for a little while.

He knew she would be leaving soon and his stomach tightened at the thought. He tried to accept the fact that she had family and friends who needed her just as much as he did, but still felt flickers of resentment towards the people that would be the cause of her leaving. He knew it was selfish of him to have such thoughts, but was unable to suppress them completely. All he could do now was persuade her to stay as long as possible and then find other ways to be with her. As he took to the sky he was determined to do just that.

--

Left to her own devices, Hermione wandered auspiciously through Viktor's recently resurrected library investigating any title that caught her eye. The house seemed empty without him in it, but still peaceful and she was enjoying perusing the works from his shelves. The majority of titles were in Cyrillic, which she had decided she would translate later, but she had also managed to find a fair few in English that she began to devour first. Several hours passed by the time she emerged from a large text on the history of elven and wizard relations, having been distracted by the sound of the movement from downstairs.

Happily surprised at Viktor arriving home sooner than anticipated, she quickly jumped up and headed downstairs. She heard him rummaging around in the kitchen and proceeded to tease him and his voracious appetite as she entered the room.

"Don't tell me it finally got too cold out there even for you?"

She stopped short as she reached the kitchen and came face to face with a rather formidable looking woman she had never seen before eyeing her coldly. Something about the woman's dark eyes and stature reminded her of Viktor and she was fairly certain she must be a relative of some sort. She only hoped it wasn't one of the pureblood zealots that Viktor had told her about.

"Oh. I..I thought you were Viktor...I..."

"Viktor is not here?"

"No. No, he's at practice right now."

The searing look the woman gave her made suddenly her feel like an intruder.

"I see. And who might you be?"

"I..I'm Hermione. Hermione Granger. A friend of Viktor's."

"Friend?"

Her voice was icy and Hermione wracked her brain to figure out what she could have done or said to offend this woman in such a short amount of time.

"Yes."

"I am Viktor's mother. You are vaiting here for him? By yourself? How is it you have free access to my son's house?"

"I'm here visiting Viktor. I've been staying here for a few days."

The dark woman raised her eyebrows suspiciously.

"Are you? Then I am surprised you are not down at the Quidditch field with all the other girls this morning. He doesn't normally leave girls alone in his house while he is gone."

Hermione bristled slightly at her implication and the sudden, lewd image of scores of Quidditch groupies having been brought to his house before her. Her voice became a bit colder in response to both being lumped in the same category as girls like those and the realization that he had most likely found comfort with who knows how many of them since he moved in. Perhaps that's why he got his own place even.

"I don't care much for Quidditch. Never have."

The woman looked mildly surprised at this.

"How did you meet my son if not on the Quidditch circuit?"

"I met him at Hogwarts when he was chosen for the tournament."

His mother's face softened slightly.

"You are the British girl he spoke of. He has not spoken of you in quite some time. He said you no longer write to him. He was very hurt by this."

"I never meant to hurt him. Things...happened."

Hermione felt an appraising gaze looking her up and down and felt like she was under a microscope and that every minute flaw was clearly visible to this woman. She took a small modicum of comfort in the fact that her gaze while certainly not warm, was no longer as icy as it had been.

"So, you no like Quidditch?"

"Not particularly."

"Interesting. Tell Viktor I vould like to see him as soon as he gets home, yes?"

"I'll tell him."

With that last edict she left fully determined to find out all she could about this young woman from Viktor's past who had suddenly stormed back into his life. With her departure Hermione was able to breath once more. After a few moments she shuffled back to the library to try and recapture some of the contentment and certainty she had felt earlier, but was unable to shake the melancholy that meeting Viktor's mother had caused. His mother's coldness and the unwelcome notion of Viktor sleeping with groupies just down the hall from her room kept her from enjoying herself like before. Doubts began to circulate rapidly through her thoughts.

"Maybe I'm just another conquest for him. Is that why he asked me here? No, if he just wanted sex, he could get that from those other girls much easier. It can't be just that. He's not like Ron, he can't be. Did you actually believe he'd be living as a monk all this time? He's a man, an attractive, famous one at that. Of course he's been with women. Why wouldn't he be? Just because he had a lot of women doesn't mean he doesn't care for me, does it?"

When Viktor arrived home an hour after the unsettling meeting between Hermione and his mother, he found Hermione in the library as he expected he would. Only instead of reading the large book balanced on her lap, she was staring quietly out the window. He walked silently up behind her, loathe to break the angelic trance she seemed to be under. Upon closer appraisal however, he saw a hint of sadness in her eyes that worried him.

"Vhat are you looking at?"

She jumped slightly at the unexpected voice from behind her chair.

"Nothing. Just thinking."

"About vhat?"

"You had a visitor today."

"Here?"

"Yes, she said she was your mother."

The smile slipped from his face and was replaced by one of unease.

"Vhat did she say to you?"

"Not very much. I think I my have offended her. She seemed pretty angry with me at first."

Viktor sighed.

"No, she not angry, she is just...overprotective. She does not like any of the people who hang around my team. She is convinced they are all after something. I should probably varn you that distrust and paranoia are two of our worst family traits."

"She seemed to think I was one of your fan girls."

"Yes, I am sorry. She does not care for them very much."

"So there have been a lot of girls here before me then?"

Viktor looked scandalized.

"No! Vhat did she say to make you think such a thing? I haff had no vomen in this house."

Hermione was ashamed of her suspicions at his flustered and embarrassed tone.

"I'm sorry Viktor. I shouldn't have said that. It's none of my business anyway."

"No, I vant you should know. You haff right to know. I dated two vomen, one for a month, the other for three weeks. I...I slept vith them, is true. I am not proud of this. They vere vain and deceitful both of them. I vas lonely so I pretend they were not such...I..."

"Viktor, really, you don't owe me an explanation. I just wondered why your mother looked at me like I was some kind of...harlot."

"I not know this word. It mean vhat I think it means?"

"Probably."

His mouth tightened in repressed anger.

"She should not haff treated you so. I am sorry Hermione."

"Don't worry about it Viktor. She wants to see you. As soon as you get home she said. She was quite adamant on that point."

"Vonderful. I had better get this over with or she vill be back."

Minutes later, Viktor arrived at his parent's house fuming, too angry to notice the perplexed expression on his mother's face, an expression that was utterly foreign to his mother's normally calm and certain demeanor.

"Mama."

"Viktor, I came to see you earlier. Did your...friend tell you this?"

"Yes, she told me."

"You did not tell me you had practice today."

"Coach called an extra practice last night, he's worried about the Irish team. But that is not what I wish to discuss with you mother."

"I had a rather interesting discussion with your friend while you were out."

"Yes, I know this. I do not appreciate your interrogating my guest Mama."

"Interrogating? I may have been...abrupt, but you can hardly blame me. Finding a strange woman in your house was a bit of a shock. You could have mentioned you had a woman staying with you."

"I didn't know I had to clear my personal life with you mother."

"Viktor, I talk to your Papa about her. It seems he knows quite a bit more about her than I do. You wrote to your father about her several times and yet I know hardly anything about her except that she hurt you. Why is this?"

"I wrote about her to Papa while I was at Hogwarts."

Viktor was confused by the suspicion swimming in her eyes.

"Why only to your father?"

"Perhaps because it would be most usual for teenage boys to ask their father's for dating advice, and not so much their mothers."

"And you did not try to keep her from me for any other reason?"

"What reason would I have to keep this from you?"

"I know who she is Viktor. You're father told me all about her."

"Then you know she isn't a Quidditch tramp, so do not treat her like one!"

"I also know they say she is with another man, someone named Weasley."

"She is not with him, she is not with anyone. Since when exactly does this family believe everything they read in the papers? If all their stories were truthful than I would have hundreds of women every month, dozens of illegitimate children and Papa would be an incurable alcoholic in a loveless marriage."

She cringed at the reminder of all the less than complimentary items that had been printed about her and her family over the years.

"Point taken. But, she is also British, no? The papers didn't make that up, now did they?"

"Yes she is British. Is there something wrong with being British?"

"Of course not, if you were British. We are Bulgarian Viktor. You could not find a decent Bulgarian girl to spend your time with?"

"Mama, are you honestly telling me that her being British is the problem? Just say what you're thinking. I've never known you to be a coward before."

Instead of providing the sharp reprimand he expected for his disrespectful words, his mother looked away with a look Viktor had never seen on her face before, shame.

"No it is not because she is British. But she is also...her parents are...not... magical."

He had never heard his normally eloquent and collected mother stammer as much as she did as she questioned Hermione's parentage.

"She is Muggle born if that's what you're getting at Mama."

"Exactly."

Anger stirred inside him and the normally respectful son turned into the protective would-be lover and he whirled around to face her.

"What are you worried about mother? That your perfect inbred family will be horrified to find out your son is in love with a mudblood! After all, what would the neighbors think?"

She looked at him completely stunned, not by his disrespectful tone but by two of the words themselves.

"In love? Viktor, you have only been with her a short time. You can not possibly be in love with her. Don't be ridiculous. I grant you she is very pretty and not like the others, but..."

Viktor looked at her, his voice stern and final.

"I love her Mama. I have loved her for a very long time. I thought I had lost her and I hated that feeling. I'm not going to lose her again. I don't care what it takes, or what you and your precious family think of her. If she will allow me, I plan on being a part of her life. If you can't handle that, than I will no longer be part of yours. Do not ask me to choose. I luff you Mama, you and Papa both, but I will choose her."

"She means this much to you?"

"Yes, she means everything to me."

His mother no longer looked ashamed, but frightened.

"You must be careful Viktor."

"Of what?"

"I am not proud of my family's beliefs, but they are still family. You are part of that family Viktor. Family honor is important to them. They will try to uphold it no matter what the cost."

Viktor looked at her suspiciously, unease beginning to gnaw at his stomach.

"What are you saying?"

"If they find out about her, and no doubt they will, they may try to hurt her."

Viktor was taken aback by her anxious warning. He knew his mother's family were zealots and that they took great joy in the misery of anyone they deemed to be unworthy, but he had never considered the possibility that they themselves would be the ones to inflict it. They had laid low during the war, as far as he knew. Voldemort supporters to be sure, but he had heard nothing of any of them being actively involved in any atrocities. The half-frightened, half-angry look in his mother's eyes told a different story however.

"You're serious, Mama."

"Yes I am very serious. Your father was a bitter enough pill for them to swallow and he is a pureblood. A pureblood who does not share their values is little better than a half-blood in their eyes. Many of them thought of him as a blood traitor. That's how they will see you when they find out about her. When I married your father they were very angry, there was talk of... If they barely accepted him, what chance do you think she has?"

The thought of Hermione being hurt by members of his own family sent fury through his veins and he knew exactly what he would do if any of them tried to harm her. He had tolerated their vicious rhetoric his whole life for his family's sake, but he would never allow their venom to reach Hermione.

"Mama, if any of them so much as breathe on her, I will kill them. You can tell them that for me."

--

Hermione was waiting for Viktor's return when a familiar owl arrived at the window.

She hadn't heard from Harry in over a week now, not since she sent him word that she would be staying with Viktor for a few days and pleaded with him not to mention it to anyone else. It was obvious from his hesitant response that he didn't understand why she was running off to meet Viktor instead of patching things up with Ron, but he had wished her a safe trip just the same and promised to let her know if anything came up at home. She was eager to hear news from home and quickly rolled the parchment open. As her eyes eagerly devoured the words he had written, his message hit hard and all the joy of the past week was completely obliviated.

Viktor, both angry and anxious upon his arrival back home, wandered upstairs trying to mask his emotions before he found Hermione. He felt no desire to frighten her needlessly with any of his mother's words, especially since nothing could be done about them tonight anyway. He reached her bedroom door which was left slightly ajar and his heart froze when he heard her weeping inside. All thoughts of his previous conversation and worries over his mother's comments vanished at the sound of her tears. He opened the door quickly and saw she was sobbing over a crumpled, tear stained parchment. Alarmed by her obvious distress he quickly closed the distance between them and knelt down in front of her to brush her tears away.

"Vhat is vrong? Are you hurt?"

She looked into his eyes and he could see the pain swimming in them.

"Neville."

"Neville?"

Viktor wracked his brain to remember where he had heard that name. Then it hit him, the quiet, skittish boy from Hogwarts. He had been amazed to find out later how the meek boy he remembered from Hogwarts had stood proudly with the resistance and been pivotal in taking down the death eaters in the final battle. He was fairly certain Hermione had mentioned something about how he was training to be an herbology teacher, or something like that.

"Vhat about Neville?"

Another tear slid down her cheek.

"He.. he's dead."

"Vhat?"

"He died... yesterday. They say...say that he killed himself. He couldn't have done that. He couldn't have. Why would Neville do that?"

Having no answer for her he could do nothing to console her except pull her into his arms and hold her tightly secured against his chest while she wept for her lost friend.

"I have to go home. His funeral's tomorrow."

His heart fell as he realized no amount of persuasion would be able to keep her here now. Determined not to let her slip away this time, he made his decision.

"I vill go vith you."

"You don't have to do that Viktor. Your next match is only a week away now."

"Vhat coach doesn't know vill not hurt him, or me. Besides the vorst he can do is fine me. As you British say, so vhat. "I vant to go vith you. Unless...unless you do not vish me to go vith you."

"I want you to go with me Viktor. I just don't want you to get into trouble for it."

Viktor's intuition, honed by year's of Quidditch strategizing, told him that now, while certainly not the perfect moment he had been hoping for, was likely the last opening he was going to be afforded and that now was the time for taking risks. He took a steadying breath and prepared to lay everything on the line.

"Hermione. I must tell you something. Something I should haff told you long time ago."

Still safely secured in his arms, she looked up at him, distracted from her grief by the seriousness of his voice.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, is just difficult for me to say what I am needing to say. I am not as good with words as you are, but I must tell you some things. I...I love you Hermione. I haff loved you for very long time. I no tell you before because you are very young then, and I was too young and stupid to realize I could lose you. I thought there vould be time enough to vait. I haff regretted not telling you. Before you leave here I decide I tell you this, so no matter vhat happens, there are no more regrets. I vish to be vith you Hermione. I vish to be vith you as more than friend."

Hermione had listened silently to his words hardly able to believe what he was saying. He loved her? Somewhere deep down she had known that he loved her, but hearing it made it suddenly real and tangible. He loved her. As she watched him take a long shaky breath waiting for her response she also knew with complete certainty that she loved him as well. The childish affection she had felt for Ron was nowhere near as powerful or unwavering as what she felt for Viktor, what she had always felt for him, but had never fully understood until this very moment. She looked up into his anxious eyes and knew what her answer would be.

"I'd like that as well Viktor."

A look of relief softened his taut features.

"Yes?"

"Yes."

He brushed the remnants of a tear away and slowly leaned down to press a soft kiss against her lips. She had a moment of hesitation as the memory of the last kiss she had endured at the Burrow filled her thoughts. But her qualms were soon vanquished by the gentleness of his touch. After a long moment, he broke the kiss and placed gentle kisses on her forehead. He held her in his arms until she drifted to sleep determined to see her through tomorrow's ordeal of saying goodbye to her friend. As he held her in his arms, he silently vowed to do whatever it took to keep her happy and safe, blissfully unaware that his devotion would soon be put to the ultimate test.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione tried to suppress an amused smirk as she lay across her bed watching Viktor arrange several light blue, floral pillows on the floor next to her bed. The sight of his imposing figure deftly arranging the small, feminine pillows, periodically pausing as the tips of his fingers gingerly assessed the carpeting that had fascinated him so for the last five minutes, was a comical sight to behold.

They had been back in England only a few short hours, arriving at her parent's house just in time to join Hermione's father for a somewhat awkward dinner. He knew his daughter had been off visiting an old friend, but hadn't expected her to bring said friend home with her. To his credit, Viktor did his very best to put her father's mind at ease regarding his unexpected appearance with Hermione and his respectful nature and candor had effectively won the apprehensive father over before dinner was even finished.

They had both been extremely tired, having slept very little the night before, and had decided to turn in early. It wasn't until dinner was nearly over that Hermione realized that, unlike Viktor's large manor, sleeping arrangements in the Granger household were far more limited. Mr. Granger had only blinked once when Hermione suggested they would have to share her room without considering how that offhanded comment might be misconstrued. Viktor had rushed to add that he would be quite comfortable sleeping on her floor, fearing Hermione's remark would be interpreted to mean otherwise and decimate all his efforts to ingratiate himself with her father. Mr. Granger had smirked ever so slightly at the young man's apprehension over appearances and excused himself rather quickly. Hermione was certain her mum and dad would soon be laughing together over Viktor's mortified expression and his stumbling reassurances of propriety.

As she continued to watch him making a makeshift bed for himself, amusement mingled with guilt. She had kept him up most of the previous night with her tears and now he was preparing to sleep on her floor when he had a far more comfortable bed waiting for him back home. He was missing practice, missing sleep, missing his family, missing everything just to be there for her tomorrow. She knew she shouldn't have let him just up and leave like he did, just to accompany her home, but she had allowed it for one simple reason, she loved him.

She wasn't a weak person and she knew she could get through dear Neville's funeral tomorrow, alone if necessary, but she had elected to be selfish for once and had taken him up on the offer of his company and support. While she justified her decision by telling herself that he would have to go back home tomorrow and it was unlikely she would be afforded any opportunity to be with him for awhile, she couldn't suppress the fact that she was acting selfishly by stealing this extra time with him.

Viktor continued to arrange his makeshift bedding, completely unaware of the guilt his actions were inducing. He was not the least bit concerned with the less than stellar sleeping arrangements. He could tell Hermione was a bit worried about the lack of space and luxury he was accustomed to, but he rather liked the coziness of the Granger house and the lived in feel of the place that his own house sorely lacked. Somehow, it reminded him of his mother's house. Smaller to be sure, but just as filled with memories and life. As he hunkered down on the floor, grateful for the odd Muggle penchant for covering their floors with soft fabric, carpeting Hermione had called it, he turned to see Hermione smiling down at him bemusedly.

"Vhat exactly is it that you find so terribly amusing Ms. Granger?"

She smiled at his rather authentic impersonation of Professor Snape's voice from years ago, using the same words and mocking tone that Snape had used on her for daring to show a hint of happiness in one of his dreary study periods. She had been staring morosely at her books, fighting back tears of frustration over her latest row with Ron, when Viktor had passed her on the way to the table assigned to the Durmstrang students. He had noticed her downcast mood and had made some silly comment as he passed her that had made her smile. Snape had pounced on that slip with unrestrained vehemence using the same words Viktor mimicked now.

"Vell, I am vaiting for an answer, Ms. Granger. Vhat could possibly be so amusing?"

"You, trying to sleep on the floor for no fathomable reason. Viktor, you don't have to sleep down there. We can share the bed."

The sudden thought of being in the same bed with her warm body so close to his created a sensory overload as the enticing image elicited several impure thoughts. The noticeable physical reaction to those thoughts rendered him acutely aware that sleeping next to her in her own bed was most definitely not an option. While they had slept next to each other several times in front of his fireplace after drifting to sleep in front of the flames, something about sleeping in an actual bed with her seemed a tad more intimate than those unintentional interludes had been. Admittedly, he had held her in his arms last night while they lay in her guest room together, but that was different, that was comforting a grief-stricken loved one, not lying next to the object of many an unrequited fantasy. Viktor was smart enough to recognize his limitations and knew better than to tempt himself like that, especially with her parents just down the hall.

"I think it is best if I do not."

Hermione flushed slightly as his meaning became clear.

"Well, we do have a sofa downstairs, even that has to be better than a cold floor."

"Is fine, Hermione. I vish to be vhere you are. Do not vorry about this. You vorry too much. I haff slept in vorse places than this many times. Besides, I am beginning to like this Muggle floor fabric, is softer than wood. Perhaps we should get some of this for house, yes?"

Momentarily speechless at his automatic usage of 'we' instead of "I", she simply gazed at him for a long moment before responding.

"I dunno. I kind of like the wood floors. Are you sure you can sleep like that?"

He crawled over to the edge of her bed, leaned forward on his knees and softly kissed her lips.

"Is fine. Go to sleep. You are tired, no?"

She rose and turned off the overhead light and deftly stepped over him to crawl into bed. She reached for the soft light on the night stand, glancing nervously at the gentle giant sprawled out on her floor, hoping he wouldn't notice her surreptitiously place her wand within easy reach as she hesitatingly reached for the light, mentally preparing herself for the dreaded darkness to close in around her.

The ritual that she had performed every night since her stay at the academy suddenly seemed as childish and stupid in his presence as it had in everyone else's. Ron, Harry and even Ginny had often poked fun at her fear, and she had tried to make light of it when they did so, but it had remained a very real and a very intense phobia she had never been able to shake. She had decided only moments ago that being caught clutching at her wand and possibly casting a quick lumos charm when needed would be far less embarrassing then freaking out in front of him in the middle of the night when the darkness pressed in around her, suffocating her as it often did. Viktor's soft voice reached her before she was able to muster the strength to vanquish the light completely.

"Leave it on Hermione."

Hermione was frozen by his knowing words. He hadn't even turned in her direction but somehow still knew she was struggling with her fears. What struck her even more than his perceptive comment was that his voice was neither mocking like Ron and Parvati's had been, nor questioning of the validity of her fear like Harry and Ginny's had been. He simply accepted her one true weakness without question or ridicule.

"Are...are you sure you can sleep with the light on?"

"Yes, is fine. I vould rather you vere not vorrying about that tonight. You do not need to change anything for me Hermione. I vould never ask this of you. You do not need to hide fear either, not from me. Everyone is afraid of something. There is no shame in this."

"Yeah? Tell me then, what are you afraid of?"

"Many, many things."

She looked down at him skeptically.

"Name one."

He seemed to pause for a long time before answering her.

"Of being alone mainly. For a long time I vorry I vill never find anyone I could trust enough to be vith. Then, one day, I find British girl hidden away in dusty, old library and fear go away. For awhile she disappear on me and I find no one who compares to her and I am afraid I vill be alone after all."

Hermione was rendered mute by his open candor and remained silent in fear of losing control of her emotions. No one had ever spoken to her so candidly, so affectionately before.

"And spiders. I am terrified of spiders. And very often my mother."

Hermione laughed softly as the mood lightened.

"You place your mother in the same category as spiders?"

"Da, she can be terrifying vhen sufficiently riled. I vould rather take on a room full of spiders than Mama vhen she is angry. So, I make deal vith you. So long as you promise not to leave me again, or anger my mother, or ask me to kill a spider for you, I can live with light being left on."

"Fair enough. Viktor?"

"Da?"

"Thank you."

"Leka nosht, Hermione."

"Good night Viktor."

Some time later, Viktor woke momentarily disoriented by his unfamiliar surroundings. As the early morning sunlight streamed through a small window with white linen curtains, he quickly oriented himself and remembered where he was. He rose silently and scanned the room, his senses on high alert in an effort to determine what had awoken him. Hermione still slept soundly in her bed. He looked down at her peaceful face and her curls spilling across the pillowcase and resisted the powerful urge to touch her, knowing it would wake her unnecessarily. She would need all her strength for today.

As he gazed at her soft skin longingly he suddenly became aware of what had awoken him as he turned at the sound of light tapping against the glass pane in the window. He lithely crossed the room and opened the window to collect the paper the owl was delivering and shush him before he could wake her.

As he unfurled the paper he saw a much older, much more confident Neville Longbottom than he remembered plastered on the front page. He skimmed through the article, disturbed by the graphic details of his death that were printed there. He hadn't just taken his own life, he had practically tortured himself first. Viktor swallowed hard at the thought of how much despair one had to have been in to do such a terrible thing and how vile a reporter you had to be to feel the need to print such horrid details. Hadn't his family and friends suffered enough without having the world know every minute detail?

Hermione stirred slightly and he quickly obliviated the British paper before she could see it. He was quite certain she could do without reading the gory specifics of her friends sad demise. The wound was still too fresh for such details. He may not be able to shield her completely from the harshness of the world, but he could at least soften it for her a bit.

The funeral that took place a few hours later was a quick and solemn affair, with only the occasional flash of an overzealous reporter marring the respects being paid. The few stares that Viktor's unexpected presence had generated were quickly cast downward in respect of the occasion, all except one. Weasley glared openly at the two of them from across the burial plot throughout much of the somber ceremony. Viktor was the initial focus of his attention, but his glare soon became completely focused on Hermione. For her part, she seemed to take no notice of anything but Neville being laid to rest in front of her. The way Weasley continued to look at her like some sort of spurned lover, made Viktor increasingly uneasy. Whatever had happened between them, it was obvious that the redhead was not over it yet. Viktor had always considered him to be selfish and vain, and his lack of basic respect for Neville and his family did nothing to change that perception of him. Apparently age had not afforded him any much needed maturity.

After the ceremony, they apparated together to the Longbottom house and were quickly greeted by Potter and a young redheaded woman, he assumed was her friend Ginny whom she'd spoken of several times, along with several others he did not recognize at all. He felt a twinge of jealousy when Harry shook off his stunned expression at seeing him there with his arm wrapped protectively around Hermione's waist and proceeded to hug her tightly, kissing her cheek in greeting. He chided himself for such infantile and possessive thoughts, but was still relieved when she came back and slipped her delicate hand back into his. She had been so very quiet throughout the funeral, not even noticing Weasley's ill manners. Her stillness worried him greatly. She gripped his hand tightly as they walked over to his grandmother for the obligatory condolences.

The elderly woman looked up at her with a flicker of recognition in her teary eyes.

"Hermione. Hermione Granger, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"My Neville told me all about you. How nice you were to him back at school. Thank you for being here. My Neville would have liked that."

"Thank you. I'm so sorry. I didn't realize Neville was... I didn't realize he was hurting so much. When I last saw him he seemed so happy, so excited about his new job and becoming a teacher."

"He was happy dear. Until the past week I had never seen him so full of life and confidence. Then he just disappeared for a few days, wouldn't tell me where he'd been, just looked at me so strangely whenever I asked him about it. I don't know what happened to him, but ever since he came back all he kept talking about was how he wasn't going to end up like his mum and dad, how he wasn't going to let that happen. He seemed possessed by the very thought of it, like it was inevitable."

"I don't understand. Why would he think he would end up like that? Why now?"

The old woman shook her head in distress.

"I don't know. It was all he could think about for days. It was the last thing he said before he..."

"You saw him before he... before he died?"

Her aged eyes clouded over in memory.

"Yes, he came to see me that day. He came to check on me every week. He was always such a kind grandson like that. But he wasn't himself at all, he was so agitated all that day, it just seemed to get worse and worse. He was so frightened, almost like a little boy. He finally just shouted that he wasn't going to end up like them, he'd die before he ended up like them and then he ran upstairs and locked himself in his old room. By the time I got in, my Neville was gone. Turned his own wand on himself, he did."

A tear slid down Hermione's cheek and the old woman's eyes refocused.

"Don't cry dear. Neville wouldn't have wanted that. He was very fond of you. My boy is at peace now. Whatever demons were haunting him are gone now."

She kissed Hermione's cheek before Viktor gently led her away.

"Dobre li si? Are you all right Hermione?"

She nodded her head unconvincingly. He gently pressed his forehead to hers and gazed down at her affectionately.

"Ne plachi. Do not cry. Talk to me."

"I hate death. It scares me so much. If my mother... I don't think I could..."

"Shh, ahren, vill be all right. I promise you. Njama strashno. Do not be afraid."

"Why would Neville act like that? Doesn't anyone find that the least bit strange? He disappears for days and then kills himself and no one questions that at all? Why would he do that?"

"I do not know. Perhaps the war was too much for him. War can do horrible things to one's soul. Perhaps he could not handle it."

"But he was so happy the last time I saw him Viktor."

"Perhaps, perhaps not. We all hide things Hermione, things ve do not vant others to see. If ve are lucky ve find someone ve trust enough to share them vith, to share the pain vith. Maybe for vhatever reason, he was not able to tell anyone vhat vas happening to him until it vas too late."

"Maybe."

Unconvinced, but having no other explanation, she sank into his embrace for a long moment drawing on his gentle strength before a familiar voice reached her.

"Hermione, can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Sure Ginny."

She looked up at Viktor as she withdrew from his embrace.

"I'll be back."

"I vill be here."

Ginny whisked her away into the empty adjoining room.

"What's going on Hermione? Where have you been? Harry wouldn't tell me a thing. Why did you leave the Burrow without even saying goodbye to anyone? And exactly when did you start seeing Viktor again?"

"A couple of weeks. I've been staying with him for a bit. He came back with me after I heard about Neville."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I..I haven't really told anyone yet. There's nothing to tell really."

"Hermione, what happened between you and Ron? He was pretty angry when you left. Wouldn't tell us anything, except that you were being childish and you'd be back after you'd calmed down a bit. What did you guys argue about that was so bad?"

"I really don't want to talk about it Ginny. It... it just wasn't working out."

"So you're not coming back? Ron said you were, but when we didn't hear from you..."

"No, I'm not coming back Ginny. I don't know why Ron would think that, but that's just not going to happen Gin."

Hermione felt a twinge of guilt at her friend's crestfallen expression.

"OK. Well, just because you guys aren't together anymore doesn't mean you can stop seeing the rest of your friends Hermione. Harry and I have missed you so much."

"Thank you Ginny. I've missed you too."

Mrs. Weasley poked her head into the room looking for Ginny.

"Hello Hermione dear. Ginny we need you out here."

"I'll be right in Mum. So you're sure you can't patch things up with my git brother?"

"I'm sure Ginny."

"I'm sorry Hermione. I always kinda hoped we'd be sisters one day."

Ginny peered around the doorway and then smiled conspiratorially at Hermione.

"That Krum, he is bloody cute though. I told you Quidditch had its merits. Took you long enough to see it though."

Hermione shook her head helplessly as her friend swaggered off still waggling her eyebrows suggestively at her. The brief moment of levity left her reluctant to go back amongst the sadness and despair that permeated the main room, so she stalled in the empty room for a moment to enjoy the quiet. Her peace was soon shattered by the one voice she had been hoping to avoid.

"Hey Mione."

"Ron."

"So, when were you planning to tell me about Krum?"

'Damn it to hell.'

The last thing she needed was a confrontation right now. Determined not to cause an unpleasant scene at a gathering to honor sweet Neville, she kept her voice calm and direct.

"I wasn't planning on discussing anything with you Ronald. My personal life is none of your business anymore."

The nonchalant look on his face slipped slightly, replaced by a familiar petulance. She had seen it many times when he didn't get his way or felt slighted by someone, most often when he felt Harry was getting more attention than him.

"Like hell it's not. Look I didn't say anything when you ran off home to mommy and daddy. Figured you'd come to your senses eventually. But now I find out that all this time you haven't been home at all, just off prancing around Europe with Viktor bloody Krum!"

Before she could respond an irritating smugness swept over his features as he abruptly came to his own arrogant conclusions regarding her behavior.

"Look, I know what this is about. This is just another childish attempt to make me jealous like when we were back at school. Well, it won't work this time Mione. I can't believe he keeps letting you use him like this, he's either really dumb or really overconfident. Either way, just send him packing and come back to the Burrow with us where you belong."

Anger began to build inside her. She had grown accustomed to his insults over the years, both open and veiled. But she wasn't about to stand there and let him turn his derisive comments on her Viktor like that.

"I'm not going anywhere with you Ronald. I may have been stupid for a very long time, but Viktor certainly isn't. I'm not coming back Ron. Besides I think Parvati might take exception with that if I did."

"So that's it is it? I should have guessed. You're jealous of Parvati. Hey, you ran off on me Mione not the other way around. So I've been with Parvati a few times, so what? She knows it's nothing serious. Just like Krum is nothing serious. So let's just stop all the foolishness and go home now."

"Foolishness? Ron do you really not have any idea how sick what you you tried to do was?"

"C'mon Mione. You know I wasn't myself that night. Besides you watched me drink all that firewhiskey George sneaked in to the party. Why would you come upstairs with me that drunk if you weren't into it?"

"You're actually blaming me for what happened? I should have expected this I guess."

"Nothing happened Hermione. I made a move and you freaked out and took off. Hardly cause for you to run off without a word like you did. Everyone was worried about you you know."

"That's what you think happened? You really believe that?"

"Look let's just call it a misunderstanding, all right? Can we move on now?"

"Misunderstanding? No, let's be absolutely clear here, Ron. You attacked me. You tried to force me to have sex with you. You scared me. You hurt me. What part did I misunderstand?"

"All right. I made a mistake. I suppose dear Vicky never makes mistakes like that huh? Or maybe you just never felt compelled to say no to him."

Hermione could see quite clearly where this conversation was going and she silently headed for the door only to have the exit blocked by a now fuming Ron.

"No, we're not done talking Mione. It's time for you to grow up and face reality. You belong to me, you always have. We can discuss it here or when we get home, but either way you're coming home with me.

She stepped angrily around him only to be grabbed roughly and pushed firmly back into the room. He snorted at her derisively and shook his head.

"You're not going back out there to him so just get that through your head Mione. It was humiliating enough to have you parade him around in front of my friends all day, in front of my entire family. I told everyone you were home visiting your family. How the bloody hell do you think this makes me look?"

"Get out of my way!"

His eyes now held the same dangerous glint she remembered from the last night she saw him. Only he couldn't use alcohol as an excuse this time.

"You actually think he's cares about you, don't you? He's a Quidditch star Mione. You think old Vicky is gonna want a girl who won't even put out when he's got hordes of fan girls who would drop their knickers for him in a second? What the bloody hell would he want with a frigid little girl like you when he has all of them?"

"Ron, you're sick. Leave me alone."

"You know what, on second thought, go on. You'll be back soon enough. As soon as he realizes what a frigid bitch you are, he'll drop you faster than he can catch a snitch. And even if you do break down and lower yourself enough to let a man touch you, you're nothing, nobody. He'll get tired of you soon enough and move on to a real woman who can keep his interest. Bloody hell Mione, you don't know a thing about Quidditch, won't even fly, won't let anyone touch you. You're not good enough for him and you know it."

She knew his words were meant to hurt her, shame her for not giving in to him, but it still hit home and reinforced her own long-standing doubts that she was good enough to keep a man like Viktor, or any man for that matter. Doubts she had worked hard to overcome were suddenly revived. Anger burned in her veins at his making her feel that way once more. He had no right to talk to her like that, no right to try and hurt her and then blame her for it, no right to be giving her orders one minute, then insulting her the next.

She looked into his face and could see the triumphant gleam in his eyes at having hurt her. He was enjoying her self-doubt, her humiliation. Hermione was suddenly angry enough to do something she had only done once before in her life. As her hand made stinging contact with his face he staggered back more in surprise than actual pain.

"Get out of my way!"

Taking advantage of his disbelief at actually being struck, she pushed past him and out of the room. She scanned the crowd quickly until her eyes locked on to the dark face and eyes she so desperately craved. Oblivious to the curious glances she pushed her way through the crowds and flung herself into his arms.

Viktor was momentarily stunned by this sudden turn of events. He lifted her face to his and could see unshed tears in her eyes, fairly certain they were from whatever had transpired in that room and not for Neville this time. He had seen Weasley enter the room, but had not seen Ginny leave, so hadn't been overly concerned at the time. He wrapped his arms around her and felt her crumble in his embrace as though she needed a place to hide. He held her protectively, all the while watching Weasley with absolute hatred, wishing they were anywhere but at a memorial where he could take matters in hand.

"Are you all right Hermione?"

"Yes. I just want to go home now."

After escorting her safely back home, Hermione found herself curled up next to him on the couch wishing he didn't have to leave. They had been silently lingering there like that for some time, putting off the inevitable parting.

"Vill you be alvright? I vill stay if vish it."

She wanted that more than anything, but knew it would be selfish to ask him to continue to sleep on her floor and face additional reprimands for disobeying his coach as well. She knew full well how much trouble he was in already for skipping out like this.

"No, you have to go back Viktor. You're in enough trouble for missing practices already. Ill be fine."

"I vill be back next veek for London semifinal. You vill come vith me, yes?"

He hoped he didn't sound insensitive to be asking her this right after the funeral of her friend, but he didn't think he could leave without some reassurance that he would see her again soon.

"Yes. I'd like that."

He leaned down and kissed her lips softly. He didn't want to leave her. He wanted to gather her up and carry her back home with him. He reached for her hand only to feel her stiffen and try to stifle a pain-filled gasp.

"Vhat is it? You are hurt?"

"No, it's nothing."

"Let me see."

He reached and gingerly took her hand in his, carefully assessing the damage. He could see nothing outwardly wrong, no bruises or marks. She cringed noticeably, however, as his fingers skimmed over her wrist.

"You are hurt. Vhat happened?"

"I sprained my wrist earlier. It's nothing to worry about."

Before she could protest he drew his wand and cast a healing charm on her wrist. He didn't recall her being in any pain when he held her hand at the funeral and surmised rather quickly that she must have been hurt at the Longbottom house. Images of Weasley's angry glare and Hermione's rattled reappearance from the room Ginny had taken her to flashed through his mind and he had a pretty good idea when she had been hurt. He looked her over once more for any telltale bruises or marks that would substantiate his suspicions.

"How did this happen? You vere not in pain before we left. Veasley did this, didn't he?"

"No, not exactly."

He looked at her suspiciously, knowing she was holding something back, something about that little redheaded bastard.

"Not exactly? Vhat does that mean?"

"It means that I hurt my wrist because of him, but it wasn't entirely his fault. I sort of hit him. Not very well I guess. I think my wrist probably hurts more than he does."

"You hit him? Vhy? Vhat did he do to you?"

"He didn't really do anything. He just said some things that made me angry and wouldn't leave me alone, I guess I lost it for a second. I shouldn't have done that."

"No you shouldn't have. I should have done this for you. Perhaps I vill still do so. Vhat did he say to you?"

Hermione glanced nervously towards the kitchen where her father was fixing her mother's medication, worried he might overhear. Her parents knew nothing of the reason for her early return home and she wanted to keep it that way.

"Nothing I want to discuss right now."

"You can tell me anything you know this, yes?"

"Yes, I know. Thank you Viktor, for everything."

"I vill be back soon. Then you vill tell me vhat led to this?"

He gestured towards her wrist, which now radiated a soothing warmth from the healing charm.

"Yes. I promise."

Not wanting to leave her without more definitive answers but reassured by her promise, he resigned himself to having to leave her.

"Obicham te, Hermione."

He kissed her lips once more and then reluctantly let her go and walked away.

Hermione watched him disappear and tried to shift her thoughts to other matters she had been neglecting. Her conversation with Ginny had shown her how just how much she had allowed her fallout with Ron to affect her relationships with her closest friends. Losing Neville had showed her just how fragile life was and had driven home the urgency of rebuilding those friendships before it was too late. The growing stack of bills in her father's study also reminded her of another urgent need as well.

Determined to remedy both issues, she decided she would occupy her week alone with finding a suitable job to take care of her parent's debts and starting to rebuild some relationships she had let lapse. She was strong enough now that she no longer needed to distance herself from the people she loved just to avoid Ron and could handle accepting a less than desirable job as well. Knowing Viktor was out there somewhere thinking of her made all the things she had been dreading seem suddenly trivial. For the first time in her life, she understood her mother's advice, that even the darkest times in one life are surmountable when you no longer have to face them alone.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Hermione spent the next week doggedly working on fulfilling the promises she had made to herself when Viktor left. She had contacted the ministry to ask about the possibility of accepting one of the positions she had refused months ago and was encouraged when they eagerly arranged for a meeting to discuss possible positions and training. She thought ruefully that her name must still have some PR value after all. She brushed her disdain aside, grudgingly admitting to herself that the offer was more than fair, and more money than she had expected. It would be enough to take care of her family's financial obligations and then some.

With that issue resolved, she had turned her attention to her second resolution and set off to mend fences with Harry and Ginny. While they were obviously still distressed by her breakup with Ron, they had happily taken her back into the fold. She had visited with them several times over the week, careful to avoid the touchy subject of her abrupt split with Ron.

The days flew by swiftly, filled with work and reestablished friendships. Evenings were spent curled up in bed reading Viktor's daily letter that waited for her each night. Their daily exchange precipitated the need for him to employ additional owls to handle all the long-distance deliveries, just like the old days. His lengthy correspondences effectively distracted her from the recent news that Neville's killer had still not been found, and she was fairly certain that had been every bit his intention.

With the week nearly over and the day of the London semifinal approaching, Hermione found herself looking forward to Viktor's company once more. The day before his expected return, she awoke groggily, exhausted from staying up with her mother most of the night, to find an owl waiting patiently for her to open the window. She jumped up quickly thinking it was from Viktor only to find her own small tawny owl that brought her the weekly wizarding paper. Slightly disappointed, she took the paper and tossed it carelessly onto her bed. As the paper landed on her bedspread, her eyes fell on the front page and a wave of nausea forced her to sit down quickly. She clutched the paper and tried to catch her breath as she digested the words printed upon it. Seamus and Luna were dead. She had to repeat it to herself several times unable to picture the friendly Seamus she knew and the loyal, albeit eccentric Luna dead. They had been taken from the world just like dear, sweet Neville.

After she was able to breathe again, she read the article thoroughly, unable to comprehend what was printed upon the now rumpled pages clutched between her fingers. The aurors had announced that Luna had killed Seamus and then taken her own life in some kind of psychotic episode. She read the article over and over, but could find no details to explain why Luna would ever have done such a terrible thing. It stated only that they were found dead in a small rural wizarding village in Germany. Her mind reeled over the news. Everyone had said over and over how Neville's death was a pointless tragedy, just a senseless act of desperation that no one could have foreseen. But now two more of her old schoolmates were dead. It should have been blatantly obvious to anyone that the deaths could no longer be classified as some senseless, mystifying anomaly. Something far more insidious was taking place, she could feel it.

Hermione hid the paper under her mattress and pulled herself together enough to get through breakfast with her father while her mother slept in. She was cleaning up the breakfast dishes with trembling hands when someone knocked on the front door. She steadied herself and went to let who she assumed was her mother's traveling nurse inside, only to find the much more welcome sight of Viktor towering on her doorstep. He had a panicky look in his eyes that she had never seen before and he quickly shut the door behind him and gathered her up in his arms. He held her tightly for a few moments, then pulled back slightly, his left hand caressing her cheek.

"Are you all right?"

She couldn't bring herself to answer him, it hurt too much. He held her tightly in his arms trying to comfort her.

"I am sorry Hermione."

She melted into his embrace until a voice from upstairs caused her to jump back quickly.

"Hermione, is that the nurse?"

Hermione quickly brushed the tear from her cheek and looked up into Viktor's eyes.

"They don't know about anything. Please don't say anything in front of them."

"They do not know about the deaths?"

"They don't know about anything, not the war, or the death eaters, nothing. They think I've just been away at school."

Viktor tried not to look shocked as Hermione's father came down the stairs. He hadn't realized just how much Hermione had to keep from her parents. As intrusive as his own parents could be, he couldn't imagine having to keep such secrets from them. He couldn't even begin to fathom how terribly difficult having to split your life between two worlds must be. His thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of Mr. Granger at the bottom of the stairs.

"Well, hello. I didn't realize you had company Hermione. I thought it was the nurse."

"No, she's not here yet Dad. Is Mum Ok?"

"She's feeling a bit better this morning. The bad spell seems to be over. She's sleeping peacefully now. Nice to see you again Viktor. If the nurse arrives just send her up."

"OK Dad."

"Goodbye sir."

As soon as he had disappeared back up the stairs, Viktor turned his attention back to Hermione.

"I just got the news this afternoon. I vould haff come sooner if I had known. I came as soon as I heard."

"Did you hear about what they're saying at the ministry? They said Luna and Neville were just overwhelmed by the war, nothing more than that. It's not true Viktor. I know it's not. Somethings happening. It...it couldn't be death eaters though. They were all killed or locked up, weren't they?"

Viktor's face darkened. He didn't want to destroy the illusion she and so many others held about the complete destruction of the death eaters, a delusion he himself would have believed if he were from any other family, He looked into her troubled eyes and realized as much as he hated to shatter her belief, she needed to know the truth if she was to be kept safe.

"Not so many vere found as you vould think."

Hermione was confused by the grim, angry tone in his voice and the disgust in his normally soft eyes. His response sent a chill down her spine.

"What do you mean?"

He looked into her eyes and realized his words had frightened her.

"Just that I think perhaps the ministry has been a bit complacent about making certain all the death eaters were accounted for. I just think it would be best if you stayed out of sight for avhile. I do not vant you coming to the game tomorrow either."

"Why?"

"Is not safe, too many people, too much access."

"What are you talking about?"

"Hermione, three of your friends haff been killed. You are right. Is no coincidence no matter vhat papers say. You know this. You knew it vhen Neville died. I should haff listened to you then. I don't know vhy this is happening, but I doubt it is over."

As the meaning of his words took hold, it became clear that he believed there would be more killings. He didn't want her to come to the game because he wasn't sure she would be safe out in the open. He was worried they might be after her as well. While she was certain someone was behind the deaths he hadn't considered the possibility she might also be a target until now.

"I am sorry Hermione. I do not vish to frighten you. I only vant you to be safe. Nothing is going to happen to you. I vill not let that happen. But the stadium is too open, too easily accessible. I need to know you are safe."

Hermione tried to quell the fear in her chest at his words. This wasn't supposed to be happening. Not now. They'd won. Voldemort was dead. It was over, wasn't it? Suddenly the stress of her mother's illness which had kept her up much of the night, the grief over her friends' murders and the new fear that she might be next overwhelmed her and she crumbled in his arms.

Viktor held her and gently rocked her in front of the small fireplace in the living room, trying to soothe her over-stressed mind. He was angry at her having to go through this. She didn't deserve this. Her mother was fighting for life just upstairs, three of her friends had been murdered and now thanks to him, she was afraid she might be next.

After awhile, her breathing slowed and her trembling ceased as she gave in to exhaustion and slowly drifted to sleep in his arms. He considered taking her up to her room as he knew he should, but wasn't ready to relinquish her just yet. He softly kissed her temple and gazed down at her. Her absolute trust in him stirred a deep protectiveness within him. He would find a way to protect her from whatever was happening, he would.

Some time passed before he could force himself to carry her to her room and safely deposit her in her bed. He brushed her curls back tenderly and resisted the temptation to kiss her lips, so as not to wake her and instead reluctantly left her room. He slipped outside unnoticed and furtively cast the strongest protection charms he had learned at Durmstrang around the Granger house. He found her father downstairs looking at him quizzically as he reentered the house.

"Is everything OK Viktor?"

"Yes, she is sleeping. She is very tired I think."

"Yes, I'm afraid we're partially to blame for that. Her mother's treatments have had some unpleasant side effects. Hermione has been up most of the night with her. I'm glad I caught you before you left though. I wanted to thank you."

"Sir?"

"My daughter has been much happier since you came back into her life. Her mother is not well, as you know, and I think there is more going on in your world than she is telling us. We have been neglecting her lately, I'm afraid. Circumstances have caused her to always have to be the responsible one, the reliable one. She needs someone who worries about her, someone who takes care of her for a change. Don't think we haven't noticed you doing just that. We wanted to thank you for that."

"Mr. Granger, I care about Hermione very much. I have for a long time. She vas very young vhen ve first met, and I know you vere not happy vith her seeing me, but I vould very much like to be a part of her life. Vould you still object to this now?"

Mr. Granger laughed softly.

"Viktor, I don't know how things work in your world, but seeking permission to see my daughter is really not necessary, not in this day and age anyway. But if you are looking for my approval, you have it. Yes, I was worried about her seeing someone so much older than her when she was so young, but she is not a child anymore. I saw the way you looked at her while you were here, it is obvious you care for her a great deal. Just promise me, whatever happens, you'll take care of my little girl. She's all we have."

"I svear to you sir, I vill neffer let anyvone hurt her."

"Fair enough, son."

Viktor spent another night on Hermione's floor before leaving a very disappointed Hermione at home as he headed off to the semifinal. With her father off at the office arranging coverage for his clients and her mother sound asleep, she had resigned herself to a quiet day alone and was pleasantly surprised by a knock on the door. Whoever it was didn't use the Muggle doorbell so she thought it likely it was Ginny coming to visit her. She'd promised to stop by this week and today would be excellent timing on her part.

She pulled open the door and stopped short at the sight of the agitated and grief stricken face of Mr. Lovegood. She quickly pulled him inside before her nosy neighbors could catch sight of him. Mr. Lovegood was a model of eccentricity on a good day, but now his odd appearance was enhanced by his disheveled and unkempt appearance making him quite a sight to behold.

"Mr. Lovegood. Please come in. Sit down."

He was pacing and wringing his hands, obviously highly agitated.

"No, no, no thank you, no. They won't listen. Won't listen. You can make them listen. You can tell them. You'll tell them won't you?"

"Tell who what? Please sit down Mr. Lovegood. You don't look well. I heard about...Luna. I'm so sorry."

He suddenly stopped pacing and stood stock still looking deep into her eyes.

"She did a horrible thing. But it wasn't her fault, it wasn't her fault. I told them, but they didn't believe me."

Hermione felt her skin crawl at his ominous words.

"What do you mean? What happened? What did you tell them?"

"My Luna, she changed. She was so scared all the time. Almost like a frightened little girl again."

Hermione's heart pounded at his words. Neville's grandmother had said the same thing about Neville. He had been scared, like a little boy.

"What was she scared of?"

Mr. Lovegood's eyes closed and he sunk into the previously offered chair, looking suddenly old and defeated.

"My Luna, she is... was... not like others, she was different, like me. When she was young... when she was younger the others children were cruel to her. Sometimes they... would hurt her."

Hermione looked horrified. She knew what it was like to be different, she had had similar encounters in the Muggle school before she received her letter. She could only imagine how much worse it must have been for Luna.

"There was one boy who would taunt her, threaten her worse than the others. Sometimes he would hurt her. It went on for years before I found out and I take her away. We move many times."

"I'm sorry."

"She had not spoken of it in years. Not until a week ago."

"A week ago?"

"Yes, she was afraid to leave the house. Kept saying he was waiting for her. He was going to hurt her. I convince her to go to Germany with me to visit her grandfather, to get away for awhile. I thought it would help. Seamus, he meet us there. He and my Luna had been seeing each other for months. I shouldn't have taken her there. She was afraid. It was my fault."

"What happened?"

"She couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. So scared she was. She was holed up in her guest room. Seamus he try to help her, but...she scream at him. Beg him to leave her alone. I never hear her scream like that in my life. It was horrible. Seamus, he reached out for her and that's when...when she pulled her wand. She killed him, but..."

"But what?"

"I don't think she even realized he was dead. She kept screaming at him even after...then she turned her wand on herself. I try to stop her but it was too late. My Luna was gone."

"You saw the whole thing? You told them this?"

"Yes, but they think I am crazy old man. Say I am just looking for reasons to justify my daughter's actions. They think she was just crazy like her father. But you, you believe me don't you? Luna always spoke so highly of you. About how you didn't treat her badly, playing jokes, making sport of her like all the others did at the academy. You work for the ministry now, my Luna said so. She read in paper last week and she tell me how nice you were to her. Please you tell them, make them listen?"

"I'll try. Mr. Lovegood? Did Luna disappear before this happened?"

He looked at her sharply.

"Yes, she was gone for three days. Sometimes she wanders. I wasn't worried. Something happened to her didn't it?"

"I'm not sure. I'll do what I can Mr. Lovegood. I promise."

When Viktor arrived back at her house soon after her father, he noted the serious look on her face and quickly found excuse to spirit her away to her room. His face was grave as she filled him in on her visit from Mr. Lovegood. He was silent a long moment once she had finished.

"Viktor?"

"First of all, you should not be opening door vithout checking to see who it is first. How do you know he was not involved somehow?"

Before she could respond to what she obviously thought was an overreaction on his part he continued.

"Secondly, I think perhaps you should hold off on going to the ministry until ve have more to go on."

"You don't believe him?"

"Of course I do. But obviously no one else does. You said yourself he is not the most credible person."

She leaned against his shoulder for support and felt his arms wrap around her protectively.

"What should we do then?"

"I do not know. Ve vill figure something out. Ve must... how you say? Keep low profile? Openly questioning things vould be suspicious. Ve must be careful."

--

Weeks passed with no further signs of trouble, but also with no clues as to the deaths of her Gryffindor peers. Since returning to England, Viktor had rapidly integrated himself into the Granger household, spending most evenings in their company, sometimes joined by Harry, Ginny or both, so she was not immediately alarmed when Harry arrived on her doorstep one afternoon until she noticed his face was grave and haggard.

"What is it? Is Ginny all right?"

Yes, Ginny's fine. Everyone' fine, but..."

"But what Harry? Tell me."

"Ron, he's acting...strangely. He got into a row with Ginny over...well over nothing. He just turned on her."

"What do you mean, turned on her?"

"Well, she was telling me she was going to visit you and he overheard and just...lost it. Railed on and on about how she was betraying him. That he wasn't gonna stand by and be rejected by everyone. He was really out of control Hermione."

Hermione looked shaken by his words.

"Hermione do you know what's going on? What happened between you two?"

Hermione was quiet for a long moment as she carefully considered her next words. She took a deep breath, deciding it would be best to just be direct and honest.

"He hurt me Harry."

Harry stared at her for a long moment, unable to process her words in relation to Ron.

"What do you mean?"

"The night of his birthday party, the night I left, he...he tried to..."

Hermione found it more difficult to speak of than she had anticipated. Before she could get all the words out Harry gleaned the meaning behind her stammered words.

"Hermione what are you saying? Ron wouldn't do something like that. He just wouldn't."

"Harry, why would I lie about that?"

"I didn't say you were lying Hermione. Maybe he'd had too much to drink or something. You know Fred and George sneaked that firewhiskey past Mrs. Weasley. What he did was horrible, but I just can't believe he would hurt you knowingly."

"Harry, you don't understand. Once we got back to the Burrow, he acted so different when we were alone. Accusing and suspicious, just like what you described with Ginny."

Harry ran his hands through his unkempt locks in obvious consternation.

"I don't understand any of this. Why would Ron do something like that to you, to his sister? He loves you both. It doesn't make any sense Hermione. Maybe you could come back with me. We can talk to him together."

The thought of another confrontation with Ron like the one at Neville's funeral made her ill.

"I can't do that Harry. I'm sorry. He's changed Harry. I don't know why, but he has. He frightens me."

"You could try. Maybe give him another chance. He hasn't stopped talking about you coming back. He's completely preoccupied with the idea. You could try."

"No, I couldn't. Not now. I.. I'm not in love with him Harry. I thought I was, but... Besides, even if I thought it was a possibility, I wouldn't hurt Viktor like that."

"But you'd hurt Ron?"

"That's not fair Harry."

"You're right, it's not. I've got to get back Hermione. If you change your mind, you know where we'll be."

"Harry, please."

"I have to go Hermione."

She watched him go silently. She knew before she told him that it was going to be difficult for him to hear and even more difficult for him to believe, but she still felt a flicker of hurt at his seemingly siding with Ron over her so quickly.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Hermione sat on her bed that night unable to sleep in an empty house and watched the minutes tick by agonizingly slow. Unbeknownst to Viktor her parents were in London for the next two days for more hideous treatments and she was by herself once more. The doctors there had high hopes for the aggressive treatment plan her mother had endured over the past few months and her parents had anxiously set off to begin the last series of treatments before the telltale final testing.

Hermione knew if Viktor was aware she was there all alone she would never have been able to convince him to go home. She had refused to be selfish this time, but now as the sun set and the darkness crept in, she was regretting that decision. She had been alone in this house many times, but now every creak, every sound set her on edge. Every time she tried to close her eyes, images of Luna's cold, lifeless eyes flashed through her mind, interspersed with the terrified and pain-filled faces of Neville and Seamus. Viktor had cast so many protection charms, she knew no one intending her harm could get in, but she still couldn't shake the fear brought on by being alone in an empty house with unknown evil lurking in the shadows. By midnight, she was wide awake and, in a word, terrified. Not wanting to bother Viktor so late at night, but unable to stand another minute alone, she rose from her bed still clutching her wand tightly as she had been all night long and instinctively apparated to the one place she associated with protection and safety.

Viktor had arrived home from his parents house less than an hour ago and had not yet settled when there was a soft rap at his door. He was dismayed to find a pale and shaky Hermione on his doorstep. She was terribly pale and wore no cloak to protect her from the biting cold. He quickly pulled her inside, wrapped a blanket around her and held her in front of the fire to warm her. He waited until she was warm and her trembling had ceased before asking her any questions.

"Vhat has happened, love?"

"Nothing really. I'm sorry Viktor, my parents are in London and I just got really scared all alone in the house."

"You did not tell me you were going to be alone tonight. You vill stay here vith me until they return."

She was quiet for a long while, making him uneasy. He pulled the soft blanket tighter around her and gently ran his hand up and down her back.

"Something else troubles you?"

"Harry's pretty angry with me right now."

"Vhy is this?"

"He came to see me today. About Ron."

Viktor tensed slightly at the name.

"I see. Vhat did he say."

"He said Ron lost it with Ginny. Was rambling about how everyone was turning on him like I did. He wanted me to go back and talk to him. He's worried about him."

"And vhat did you tell him?"

"That I couldn't do that."

Viktor was torn between relief at her not wanting to see him and concern over why she would be so afraid to see him.

"Hermione you promised to tell me vhat happened at Neville's' funeral. Vhy you strike him."

"He said some things about me...and you."

"Vhat did he say?"

"That you didn't really care about me. That as soon as you got what you wanted you'd leave me."

She could feel his body stiffen in disgust and anger. He lifted her face to look into her eyes.

"You do not believe this?"

"No...for a moment or two maybe."

"Vhy?"

"I don't know. I guess because I never really understood why you liked me in the first place."

"Hermione, I love you. Vhy do you need justification for this? You are everything I haff ever vanted. You must neffer doubt this."

"I don't. Not anymore anyway."

"May I ask vhy you leave him?"

She hadn't been expecting that question and she was still for a long moment.

"He...changed."

"Changed? How?"

"He acted... different... when no one else was around."

Viktor did not like the ominous sound of her words.

"He hurt you?"

"The night I left, he...he tried to..."

Anger swept though his eyes as he caught the meaning behind her halting words.

"He try to force himself on you?"

"Yes."

Anger dissolved into absolute fury as a string of what Hermione could only presume were Bulgarian obscenities erupted from the normally composed man.

"I think he may be knowing significant pain very shortly."

"No Viktor. Promise me you won't do anything."

"Hermione.."

"No promise me! Promise me or I will never tell you anything else."

He looked into her pleading eyes and realized as much as he wanted to curse Weasley into oblivion, he wanted to keep her trust even more.

"All right. I promise."

She leaned her head sleepily against his shoulder confident he would keep his word and started to drift off to sleep.

"I don't know why he's changed so much. He's just not Ron anymore."

As she fell asleep in his arms and his anger began to ebb slightly her oddly familiar words echoed in his head.

Not the same. Changed. Inexplicably violent.

His mind kept turning those thoughts around and around until he was struck with the sudden realization that these were the same words used to describe Longbottom and Luna.

'What if..?'

He looked down at his sleeping angel and pushed the unwanted suspicion away. If Weasley was being manipulated like the others somehow than what had happened between him and Hermione might not have been his fault.

'If that were true she might... No, it was just a coincidence, it had to be.'

He pulled her tighter in his arms, his stomach clenching at the thought of losing her back to Weasley should his unfounded hunch turn out to be true.

It couldn't be the same. His imagination was just getting the best of him. After all, Weasley hadn't died or killed anyone like the others had. It had to be a coincidence.

Besides, he couldn't worry about Weasley now. He had to focus on protecting Hermione. Having convinced himself that his suspicions about Weasley were unfounded, his thoughts shifted to the request he was planning on making of her in the morning. He wasn't at all sure how she would respond, but he knew he had to ask just the same.

The next morning, Hermione watched and waited patiently as Viktor paced slightly in front of her unsure what it was he was so reluctant to say to her. He had been acting strangely since she arrived back at his home and Hermione wasn't sure what to make of it. Perhaps she shouldn't have told him about what transpired between her and Ron after all.

"Viktor, is something wrong?"

"Hermione, I vant to show you some things. Things that you can use to protect yourself. Things you vill undoubtedly not approve of."

"What do you mean? Magic?"

"Yes. Magic ve vere taught at Durmstrang, things not allowed at Hogvarts."

Hermione's stomach fell at his meaning.

"You mean dark magic."

"Vhat I vant to teach you is not evil Hermione. I svear it. At Hogvarts they teach you only how to disarm, how to stun. I am going to teach you how to take out someone who is trying to hurt you, by any means necessary. Vith magic and vithout. If you vill allow me."

Hermione thought about what had happened to Neville and the others and had to admit she was afraid. She had learned several defensive spells during the fight against Voldemort, but she knew Viktor knew many more. Combat was an integral part of the Durmstrang curriculum. She knew Viktor only wanted to ensure her safety and trusted that he would never ask her to do anything that was against her convictions.

"All right. Where do we start?"

A look of relief swept across his features before he began.

"Ve should start vith rules."

"Rules? OK, what are the rules."

"Rule #1: Do not hesitate. Hesitation means defeat. React to any threat immediately."

"Don't hesitate. Got it."

"Rule #2: Show them no mercy. They vill show you none."

Hermione flinched slightly at that one and he gently squeezed her hand before continuing.

"Rule #3: Show no fear to your enemy. Fear is considered a weakness to one who vishes to harm you. It empowers them, makes them bold to know they have that power over you. If you do not show fear, they vill be hesitant and it vill slow their attack."

Rule #4: Magic is not your only defense. If your vand is taken from you, you can still fight. Use vhatever veapon is available to you."

"Available?"

He picked up a small hand mirror that was on the counter and deftly shattered it, picking up the largest piece.

"Mirrors make great knives Hermione."

"That was mine you know!"

Viktor rolled his eyes at her mock outrage.

"I vill buy you a new one. Pay attention."

"Fine. Skewer the enemy with hand mirror. Got it."

Ignoring her sarcasm he continued.

"Rule #5: Never feel guilty for defending yourself at all costs. Vould you hesitate to save somevone you love?"

"No."

"Then do not do any less for yourself. All right, let's begin."

For the next two days he helped her practice curses that would not only deter an attacker but most likely permanently damage and leave them at death's door if not beyond. On the second day she had those curses down cold and he decided to begin teaching her several maneuvers for physically evading someone when all magical means failed. She stood skeptically before him as he gave her instructions.

"Viktor, how am I supposed to evade you?"

"Size is irrelevant Hermione. If you are alert and know vhat to do you can take down any man three times your size."

"What if there's more than one?"

"Hopefully it vill neffer come to that."

After several unsuccessful attempts, she successfully evaded him and even took him to the floor on the last attempt. He pulled her down with him, but still she'd managed to floor him just the same. As she tumbled down on top of him ecstatic at her mild success, the mood suddenly changed to something far more intimate.

Her warm body on his erased all thoughts of death eaters from his mind and before he knew what he was doing, his lips found hers as he pulled her even closer against him. His hands roamed over her back and shoulders, until they found their way to her soft hair, his fingers lacing through her curls. With one arm wrapped around her waist, he rolled over with her and before he realized it, he was hovering mere centimeters over her, fervently kissing his way down her neck. Suddenly comprehending what he was doing, he pulled away from her and back into a sitting position. She followed him back up, confused as to his negative reaction.

"Is something wrong?"

"Da, this is vrong. Very vrong."

She felt a twinge of hurt at his rejection. She knew she was inexperienced, but she didn't think she'd done anything so terribly wrong.

"Why?"

"Vhy? Hermione I vas about to make love to you on the floor like some kind of..."

Hermione's concerns faded abruptly at the realization it was not what she had done, but where that was the problem.

"That's what's bothering you?"

"Yes, I do not vant... I vill not... You do not understand."

"Then explain it to me."

He looked into her eyes and so no mocking or anger there and he searched desperately for the words to explain.

"I haff vanted you for very long time Hermione. I tell myself back at academy that you are to young, but I love you, so I vait for you. I spend next two years trying to prove I am vorthy of you. Then I lose you because I am too stupid to see vhat vas happening. I finally find you again and I am make vow to do things right this time. This does not include making love to you for first time on floor. I vill not let you do something you vill regret, something that vill make you resent me. So as much as I vant to be vith you, I vill not do this, not like this. You understand?"

"Yes. I understand. I love you Viktor."

She kissed his cheek and pulled herself back to a standing position. He quickly joined her.

"Let's start again. No vands."

Later that day, Viktor watched Hermione disapparate, a bit more confident after her brief but promising lessons in the darker arts of defense. She wanted to be home before her parents got back and was anxious to hear the news about her mother's treatments. He himself was due at his own parents in less than an hour so luckily had little time to dwell on the sudden void her absence left in his house once more.

--

Viktor arrived at his parent's house expecting a simple dinner and another long interrogation regarding Hermione. As much as he was dreading this particular scenario, it was far better than the one that actually awaited him. Instead of his father, he found his most detested relative sitting at the dinner table next to his mother. His blood boiled at the mere sight of his uncle sitting there in all his pureblood smugness. In Viktor's opinion, he was the worst of the whole Petrov clan his mother came from. Viktor had to endure his pathetic pureblood rhetoric his entire life. He wasn't about to listen to anymore, not tonight anyway. As he turned to leave, his father intercepted him with a placating gesture.

"Papa, why is he here?"

"Viktor, I know how you feel, I feel the same way, but it would be best not to antagonize your uncle. He still has many...connections."

"I will not listen to his filthy lies anymore. 22 years of it is more than sufficient."

"Son, I know what you are thinking and I understand your contempt for your uncle, believe me. He will be gone in a few days. Think of your mother. He could have her disowned. He has the power to make that happen, you know this. Can you not bite your tongue for a few days for your mother's sake?"

Viktor looked down resignedly and begrudgingly trudged back into the dining room and sat down as far from his uncle as physically possible while remaining at the same table.

"Ah Viktor, you are looking well boy."

Viktor simply scowled down at his plate, biting back the cutting words he wanted so badly to unleash upon him. Anything to wipe that smug smirk from his inbred face.

"We were just discussing the hideous way many of our young people betrayed us during the underhanded attack on our martyred Lord Voldemort. Glad to see you weren't dragged into any of the idiocy that so many of our young people fell for. Running off to fight with those traitors. Every one of them should be disowned. Never fear, they shall get what is coming to them, just as soon as those murdering devils from Hogwarts are dealt with. That place should have been cleansed years ago. None of this would have happened if we had purified their ranks earlier."

Viktor's father saw the barely restrained fury in his son's eyes and tried to diffuse the situation before his son's temper got the better of him.

"Ivan, the war is over. Lord Voldemort is gone. Surely there is no point now in talk of vengeance."

"No point! Do you think the loyalists are so easily defeated that they would meekly surrender and allow those filthy mudbloods and blood traitors to live? They will not rest until they have meted out adequate justice for the Lord's murder, I promise you. They have taken down four so far, did you not hear?"

Viktor sat frozen in his chair as his and Hermione's suspicions were verified. Viktor's voice was low and seething with restrained anger at his smirking over the deaths of Hermione's friends. He could just as easily be speaking of her, gloating over the death of the woman he loved while he sat there in silence.

"What do you mean by that?"

A sick smile crept over his uncle's features as he began to eagerly relate their conquests. So confident in the pureblood beliefs of his kin, he freely admitted all he knew regarding the truth behind their deaths.

"First they got that little kopele Longbottom, I think it was. His parents tried to disobey the Lord as well, they ended up in a psych ward, their son was not so fortunate. You'd think he would have learned from his parents' mistakes. Then that crazy Lovegood girl. Managed to get that little Irish bastard through her as well. That was a lucky find, two for the price of one. And just this week, some harlot by the name of Patil fell into their hands. I hear she's got a sister who's still roaming around free though, sorry to say."

'Patil? He knew that name. The Indian girl Hristo had danced with at the Yule Ball. Hristo had been quite smitten with her for some time after that. Or perhaps it was her twin. He hadn't heard about her demise. Did Hermione know?'

"Filthy blood traitors, all of them. As it stands right now there are four less deceitful traitors in the world. I bet they weren't so arrogant when the loyalists were through with them."

Viktor decided to push him a bit, to determine just how much he truly knew.

"I heard they took their own lives."

Ivan laughed derisively.

"Of course, do you think the loyalists are so stupid as to kill them out in the open. No, not yet anyway. Much too soon to show their hand. Best to lay low and make it look like they are taking themselves out. Not that they didn't have some fun with them before they were released. I hear they begged for death before they were through. Especially the last girl. A coward that one."

Viktor glared across the table, unable to speak for a long moment. He felt ill at the perverse pleasure his uncle seemed to be taking in their suffering, in the suffering of women no less.

"So, the brave followers of Voldemort are torturing defenseless women now?"

His uncle's smile fell, replaced by anger at his impertinent remark.

"Not decent women. Why should those harlots be spared? They are traitorous whores, all of them. They are getting no less than what they deserve. You reap what you sow. Save your chivalry for those who are worthy of it."

His uncles tone lightened a bit at his next thought.

"Besides boy, most of the conspirators in our Lord's death were mudblood whores. Those women are only good for one thing anyway. Everyone knows that."

Viktor wanted so badly to beat him senseless just then, but his mother's pleading eyes restrained him. He knew he needed to get out of the room and his uncle's presence if he was going to be able to show restraint much longer.

"Please excuse me mother. I am not hungry."

He stiffly rose, his fists clenched and strode angrily from the room.

Hours later Viktor wandered the manor aimlessly trying to process the new information his Uncle had provided. Unable to sleep with all the thoughts spinning through his mind he crept down the darkened staircase. He was wandering the house anxiously, unsure what his next step should be. He stopped short as he unexpectedly stumbled across his uncle who had obviously been liberally helping himself to the liquor cabinet.

"Ah Viktor, come drink with me. Let us celebrate!"

"Celebrate?"

"Yes, won't be long now, not long at all."

"Before what?"

"Before that little Potter bastard and his friends are punished of course! We're getting closer to them everyday."

"We?"

It was the first time his Uncle had included himself amongst those meting out his precious "justice". He had been very careful to distance himself from them during the earlier discourse. The liquor had apparently loosened his tongue. Viktor suddenly realized he may know more firsthand knowledge than even he had suspected and seized upon the chance to find out more.

"Of course. You know how close we are? We almost got the Weasley blood traitor, but his conditioning didn't take quite properly. It was to be expected though. He was the first test subject after all. A curse that strong has to be executed perfectly if its going to be effective. We made the necessary adjustments to the curse before Longbottom's turn came. Soon though, we'll get Weasley along with Potter and that mudblood whore of his."

Viktor's eyes closed fast against the verification that Weasley was indeed one of their victims. His earlier fears about the cause of his behavior that ahd turned Hermione from him now confirmed, Viktor realized he would have to tell Hermione what he knew. There was still a chance he could be saved from whatever demented curse was afflicting him. He was afraid of losing her when this came to light, but knew she would never forgive him if he didn't, and he would never forgive himself either. He wanted to hold onto her, but not like this.

'Damn them!'

Viktor reigned in his fury over his situation as he now realized his uncle definitely knew more than he thought about the killings. He suddenly realized he could easily play along with him in order to get to the truth. Perhaps even discover vital information that could help him protect his Hermione from these sick bastards who wanted to hurt her. He may lose her when the truth about Weasley came out, but he'd be damned if he let anyone hurt her when he had a chance to prevent it.

"How are you going to get to them? They must be well protected."

"No, that's just it. Up until now they have been very careless. They think it's all over, the arrogant traitors. We'll have them soon enough."

"We?"

"Yes, there are many of us, more than anyone suspects. Some of us avoided detection altogether, others convinced that simpering tribunal that they were forced to aid Voldemort. Simpletons!"

"How would one...find these loyalists?"

His uncle gave him an appraising look and then a sick smile.

"Interested in joining? What's the matter, turned you down did she?"

Viktor looked up at him startled.

"Ah yes Viktor, we now you went to see her. She is under surveillance you know. She is very high on our hit list. You even brought her to your house."

"I..."

His Uncle took his fumbling over the shock of this revelation as embarrassment at being found with a mudblood.

"Don't worry Viktor. Is no shame in amusing yourself with a mudblood. Like I said , what else are they good for? She turned you down though didn't she?"

Viktor choked down the curses in his throat, hoping his uncle would think the anger in his voice was directed at Hermione and not him.

"Yes."

Ivan nodded knowingly.

"Typical mudblood arrogance. The loyalists were quite proud of you for not taking part in the battle like many of our young men did. We know you are loyal. Make the mudblood pay for her arrogance. Come join us."

"Join you?"

"Why not? I promise you, you will not be sorry. Hell, we'll give her to you before she dies if you still want her that badly. What do you say?"

Viktor bit back what he truly wanted to say and instead forced a small smile to his face.

"I would like that. I think I would like that very much."

"Then it will be arranged. Expect to hear from us soon."

As his uncle stumbled off in a intoxicated haze leaving Viktor alone once more, a plan began to take shape in his mind. He could stop them. He could infiltrate those who were behind the killings, those that wanted to hurt Hermione. He had the chance now to redeem himself for his lack of involvement in the war and protect Hermione. He didn't know if he could pull it off, but he knew he had to try.


	8. Chapter 8

Author's note: I was going to wait until the story was complete to post all together, but due to several email nudges requesting an update, I am posting the next chapter early.

**Chapter 8**

Blissfully unaware of Viktor's discovery and plans to place himself in peril to protect her, Hermione had spent the morning silently rehearsing the defensive curses he had taught her, even though she dearly hoped she would never have to use them. Her father's weary voice broke her concentration.

"Hermione?"

"Yeah Dad. I'm here."

He stuck his head through her bedroom door.

"We're leaving now. Are you sure you'll be OK here alone?"

"Sure. Me and Crooks will be just fine. Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think....think she's getting better?"

Her father's eyes clouded over with a mixture of fear and doubt.

"I don't know love. It seems like the treatments have even nastier side effects than the disease itself. It's hard to tell what's causing her pain and fatigue now. We won't know until the test. This her last treatment. We've just got to hold out a little longer."

Three hours later, Hermione sat curled up on the sofa picturing her father holding her mother's hand as they administered the last of the hated chemotherapy treatment she would be receiving, regardless of the outcome. If it worked, she would be in remission. if not...Hermione didn't like to think about that possibility.

In an attempt to steady her frayed nerves, she began to prepare a quick dinner for her and Crookshanks, but was interrupted by an insistent yowling from the back yard. With a heavy sigh she headed towards the back door to retrieve the demanding little fur ball, muttering to herself the whole way.

"How did you get out again? Crooks if you can find your own way out, you need to start finding your own way back in as well."

She flung the door open in frustration. She had enough to worry about with her mother and the now very real threat of rogue death eaters without his ridiculous antics. The angry scolding she was about to let loose died on her lips at finding the doorstep empty and not occupied by a demanding orange feline as expected.

"Crooks? Where are you?"

She walked out into the yard in confusion. A low feline growl from above caused her to gasp and drew her attention to a thick, crooked tree limb a few feet above her in the old oak tree she used to play in as a child. She breathed a sigh of relief as she recognized the orange feline perched upon the thick limb.

"Crooks, what are you doing? Come down from there."

As she stood on tiptoes and reached up for him, she was startled by the way he shrank back out of her grasp and continued his deep hissing. Unnerved by his behavior, she slowly backed away from the tree, suddenly realizing how dark it was and how far she had strayed from the protection wards that Viktor had cast around the house.

"Crookshanks, come inside, now!"

She had only taken a few more steps back before she became aware of two shadowy figures out of the corner of her eye flanking her. With panic in her heart she quickly whirled around only to stop short at the sight of two more cloaked figures who had silently crept up behind her. She realized too late she had been surrounded and cut off from any feasible escape route.

Her heart froze in her chest as she scrambled to grasp her wand that was hidden in her jumper. She had scoffed at Viktor for insisting she keep it on her, even at home, but was now grateful she had made that promise. Her courage wavered slightly as they pulled their own wands and converged upon her wands at the ready. She tried to choke down her fear long enough to think clearly.

'There's too many of them. What do I do?'

Almost instantly she heard Viktor' voice in her head. The words he had spoken to her over and over were suddenly very clear and strong.

_"Don't hesitate. Don't show fear."_

The comforting voice was enough to unfreeze both her thoughts and her body. To their surprise, she quickly sidestepped the oncoming figure and disarmed him, gracefully turning to deflect the second and stun the third before she herself was disarmed by the fourth.

Now defenseless, her hand stinging from the curse that claimed her wand, she once again heard the familiar voice in her head.

_'Magic is not your only defense Hermione. Use whatever you have at hand. Do whatever you have to do. Don't hesitate.'_

As the man she had disarmed angrily moved in on her, she looked around frantically for some type of weapon. Her eyes caught a brief shimmer of moonlight against the silver amulet she wore around her neck. Her attacker approached slowly, purposefully, assuming she was easy prey now. She half turned as though to flee and upon feeling cruel hands upon her, tore the amulet from her neck and struck out with it. Her attacker backed off clutching at his throat freshly pierced with the sharp silver. For a fleeting moment she thought she would get way as he sputtered and clawed at his throat, but mere yards from the protection wards the first two men who she had evaded were upon her, grabbing her wrist and forcing the amulet from her hand. She struggled ferociously, kicking and scratching, but was suddenly subdued by a crashing blow on her cheek that sent her reeling to her knees. As she struggled to remain conscious she felt her arms being pulled back painfully and heard the curse that sent rough ropes tightening around her wrists. Seeking retribution, the now furious death eater who she'd temporarily deflected with her amulet, stumbled to his feet and tightened the ropes with a painful yank. She could feel them cutting mercilessly into her flesh. He laughed as she involuntarily cried out in pain.

"She's quite the fighter, this one."

"Not for long. She won't be quite so rebellious when Ketura is finished with her."

"You'd better put her out. Don't want her making a scene now do we?"

Hermione felt her head being forced back with a painful yank of her hair and a wand being pointed at her temple.

"Time to sleep mudblood."

She tried to turn her head as he raised his wand and rendered her unconscious with a painful curse.

-------

Some time later, Hermione was slowly regaining consciousness. She found herself on an icy cold floor and struggled to her knees. Her hands were still bound behind her and her head ached terribly. Dizziness threatened to consume her as she rose and she sat as still as possible trying to ride the wave. As her head began to clear, the door opened and a man entered the small dank cell.

"Well now, our little mudblood is awake is she?"

_'Show no fear Hermione. Fear is a weakness. They will use it against you.'_

Silently reciting those words, she forced herself to remain calm and not to tremble as he towered over her. She gathered up all her courage and looked up into his eyes defiantly.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

She bit back any cries as another brutal slap stung her cheek.

"Who gave you permission to speak, mudblood!"

He grabbed her by the hair and forced her to her feet shoving her hard against the dank wall behind her, scraping the flesh from her bound hands. She tried to block out the pain and managed to hold her composure as he slowly looked her up and down lecherously.

She bit back the terrified scream in her throat as he reached up and tore the dress from her shoulder and began to molest her. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to block out the feel of his body pressing her against the cement wall and the feel of his mouth on her neck and bared shoulder. She began to feel her resolve slipping as his hand roughly reached for the button on her skirt, knowing full well what he was going to do to her. He had only managed to open the first button when a harsh voice caused him to halt his assault.

"Duncan! Leave her!"

He whirled at the voice from the door and shot back at him with an angry, lust-filled voice.

"Forget it! This one is mine. You and Dimitrov got the Indian bitch and that crazy blonde. It's my turn now!"

Hermione blanched at the sudden realization of what they had done to Luna and Parvati before they died.

"Not with this one, its not! You know you have to wait until after the programming is complete, you fool. Besides, I think Ketura has something special in mind for her. Those were his direct orders. She's not to be touched. Not just yet anyway."

Her attacker backed down immediately at Ketura's name and pulled away from her.

"Fine, but I get the next pretty one or there's going to be hell to pay. I'm not going to be left out of the fun."

The door slammed shut behind him and Hermione was suddenly alone again. Now safely out of sight she could let her defenses down and the fearless facade shattered. Her body trembled uncontrollably and she slid down the wall as terrified as she had ever been in her life. What were they going to do to her? Who was Ketura? What did they mean by he had something special planned for her?

"Oh God, Viktor, please help me, please."

She knew it was a childish plea and she was ashamed of herself for uttering it. Even if Viktor knew she had been abducted, he would have no way of knowing where she was. She didn't even know where she was. She was completely alone at the mercy of animals. Hopelessness overwhelmed her and the tears begin to fall.

What seemed like an eternity later, but what was probably only a few hours, two men appeared in her cold cell. Thankful she had the time to compose herself before they arrived, she stood to face them as one of them looked at her appraisingly.

"It's time little vone."

The man who had tried to molest her earlier stepped closer.

"Too bad little one. It would have been fun."

With that he raised his wand and hurled a painful and unfamiliar curse at her which quickly sent her into darkness once more to await whatever sadistic ritual they had planned for her. Only this time, the darkness was fleeting, replaced by mesmerizing sparkles of light that left her feeling weightless and dizzy. She realized she was not alone in the void as a faint voice, which grew louder and louder in her head, demanded to be answered. The same question droned in her mind over and over.

"What is it that you fear more than all else my dear?"

She struggled to cloak her mind from the disembodied voice only to feel a scream tear from her throat as the disembodied presence ripped its way into her thoughts, ruthlessly forcing itself into her mind, sifting through her private thoughts and memories until it latched onto the answer it wanted.

"Ahh, yes. I see quite clearly now. You cannot hide anything from us. No one can. That Lovegood girl fought to the last, we thought she'd be permanently damaged with the fight she put up, but in the end we won just the same. It doesn't have to be that way for you. I can help you. I can protect you. I protected you from Duncan didn't I? You can trust me. Don't fight it, you'll only end up hurting yourself for nothing."

"Now, lets see if your fear is a powerful one, shall we?

"No, please."

With a pop the star-like lights in her mind were extinguished. She was fully aware, but still immobilized and helpless as she was forced into the blackest, emptiest darkness she had ever known.

"You will stay here like this, in the dark, forever. You will never see light again. Feel it closing in around you, crushing you, stealing the very breath from your lungs. How does it feel?"

The voice droned on and on for what seemed like hours as Hermione fought the terror flooding her veins. Just at the point of full fledged panic when she would have done anything to escape the crushing darkness, the voice reached her, now sympathetic and caring.

"Poor child. How will you escape it? There's only one way, you know this. When the darkness finds you again, it will be forever, there will be no escape, no second chances. Is that what you want?"

"No."

"There is only one way to escape it before it claims you. Are you going to meekly give in to the darkness or will you deny it its' prize?"

"I..I won't. I can't, please let me out."

"It will be your choice child. Let the darkness take you forever the next time it comes for you or rob it of your life force that it wants so badly. You are strong child. You can stop it. You know what you have to do?"

The intense fear mixed with the oddly comforting voice made every insane thing he was saying seem reasonable and just. Of course she knew what she had to do to escape it, and escape it she would.

"That's a good child. We're counting on you to be strong."

Unfamiliar words were uttered and Hermione felt herself sinking into blissful oblivion.

----------

Viktor had arrived at the Granger's only to find the house deserted. He was disappointed at not finding Hermione, but was not overly concerned by her absence. The protection wards were still in place and there was no sign of any trouble. Hermione had not been expecting him and her parents were gone as well. Assuming she had most likely gone with them or had gone off to run an errand, he plunked down on the stone step to wait for her. He struggled with deciding how much he would tell her about his plans while he waited. As the sun began to set, he was determined to tell her everything, including what he knew about Ron. She had a right to know and he knew he would never be able to stomach deceiving her. He would have to tell her everything and hope her affection for him was strong enough to keep her from returning to Weasley. That decided he was suddenly startled by a large orange fluff ball pouncing on his lap.

"Vell Hello. You escaped again I see?"

He smiled and allowed the little demon to perch on his lap for a moment. Hermione's choice of familiars had bemused him from the beginning. How she could love such a proud, demanding creature as much as she did amazed him. He ruffled his thick fur and shook his head ruefully at the orange hair being deposited on his shirt. When he looked up he saw Hermione slowly walking up the cobblestone path and plopped a rather miffed feline onto the ground as he rose to meet her.

Hermione followed the familiar path to her house not at all certain where she had been or why she felt so weak and tired. As she reached the doorway she saw Viktor sitting there patiently waiting for her with Crookshanks in his lap. She hadn't been expecting Viktor tonight, had she? Her mind was so fuddled she was no longer sure of anything.

As Viktor met her and took in her demeanor, his smile faded quickly.

"Hermione? Are you vell? You look pale."

"Yes, I..I'm just really tired. What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you. But first lets get you inside. You don't look at all vell. Vhere haff you been?"

She looked at him blankly for a moment, not at all sure of the answer. Where had she been? All she could remember was going out last night to retrieve Crookshanks and then walking home.

"I'm not sure. Just out walking, I guess."

"You guess?"

She nodded wearily, as she allowed him to lead her inside and over to the sofa where she curled up under the blanket he spread over her. She looked up at him and saw the worry in his dark eyes. She wanted to set his mind at ease and tried to get his thoughts on something besides her.

"What did you need to talk about?"

"That can vait. I think you may be coming down vith something. Rest now. I vill get you something to drink."

As he headed out towards the kitchen, for no reason she could put her finger on she felt suddenly very alone and fearful.

"Viktor?"

He stopped in his tracks at the unusual timidity in her voice.

"Yes luff?"

"Don't leave me. Please don't leave me alone."

A knot formed in his throat at her wavering voice. A voice filled with uncertainty and fear that was so unlike Hermione.

"I vill not leave you Hermione. Sleep now. I vill be right here vith you. I promise."

She slept restlessly at first, waking in fitful dreams. Viktor was uncertain what to make of it. She had no fever, no obvious signs of illness or injury to explain her restlessness. After a long while she settled slightly from sheer exhaustion and his eyes became heavy as well. The stress of recent events, the worry over Hermione and the intoxicating warmth of her body next to his sent him slowly into a deep slumber.

Viktor awoke abruptly as a loud crash of thunder shook the small house. Lightning was flashing outside the windows and the wind whipped furiously. As he oriented himself he realized that Hermione was no longer at his side. The wind was whipping to and fro violently and something about it reeked of dark magic not nature. Shaking off his unease, he rose to find Hermione concerned by how brightly lit the house now was.

'She must have turned on more lights after I fell asleep. Is that what woke her?'

Hermione wasn't usually this afraid of the dark. One light was usually enough to put her fears at ease. Perhaps this storm had unnerved her as well. There was something decidedly unnatural about it.

He was about to call out her name when the lightening flared, bathing the room in an unearthly red. The lights flickered twice and the house plunged into utter darkness. His heart froze at the terrified scream emanating from the kitchen. He cursed as he tripped over something in the dark trying to get to her and quickly cast a lumos charm. Moments later he found her cowering on the floor in the far corner of the darkened kitchen, her arms wrapped around her knees, clutching her own softly glowing wand. He dropped down beside her and reached out to comfort her.

"Hermione? Is all right. Is only storm. I vill light some candles."

"No, no, no. It's coming for me. I won't do this again. I won't."

Viktor was at a complete loss by her terror filled words. He knew she was afraid of the dark, but she had never been this afraid before.

"Hermione, vhat are you talking about? You are safe. Vhat can I do?"

"You can't stop it. Only I can stop it. I know what I have to do. I know what I have to do."

"Hermione, vhat are you talking about? Vhat do you haff to do?"

He watched in confusion and then in horror as she raised her wand and turned it on herself.

"I have to stop it."

As the killing curse passed her lips, his well honed reflexes kicked in and he deftly grabbed her wrist and deflected the curse.

"No, I have to stop it. It's the only way to stop it."

She struggled with him as he disarmed her before she could make a second attempt.

Realizing trying to get her wand back from him was useless, she quickly scanned the room for another means of salvation. Before he realized what was happening she had risen to her knees and secured a sharp knife from the counter and began to tear at her throat with its edge. She struggled against him as he restrained her, pulling the knife from her throat. He threw the knife across the darkened room and held her tightly from behind, immobilizing her. He held his hand to her throat until he was sure the wounds were superficial.

"No, please. Let me go. It's the only way. I won't go back there. I won't. Please Viktor."

Realizing he was not going to relent and release his iron hold on her she crumbled in despair. The darkness was going to take her, she could feel it smothering her. Why wouldn't he let her escape it? Why was he torturing her like this?

Viktor held her tightly while she wept afraid to let her go even for a moment. He had never seen her like this, weeping like a little girl lost in the dark. She had tried to kill herself, just like Neville, jut like Luna. Realization hit hard. They'd gotten to her. Merlin what had they done to her? If he hadn't been here tonight, she'd be...

The thought of what would have happened had she been alone sent a wave of nausea through his gut. He pulled her tighter against his chest, trying to vanquish her fear.

"Shhh. Is all right luff. Do not be afraid. You are safe now."

"No please. Let me die. Kill me. Please kill me."

Careful to not release his grip on her he reached for his wand. He cast quick illumination charms around the kitchen causing a ghostly glow around the room. The soft light soothed her somewhat and she quieted in his arms as he rocked her gently back and forth. He held her there like that for a long while until she fell asleep from sheer terror induced exhaustion. He tried to think of what to do. He knew she had been bewitched. He'd been through a similar curse himself and knew how horrifying it was too have no control over one's own actions. He had almost killed Cedric under such a black spell and now his Hermione had almost taken her own life. He knew she needed help, more help than he could give, but dared not leave her.

As the unholy storm wound down and the first rays of sunlight began to filter through the curtains he carried her still restless form to her bed and quickly sent word to the only person he could think of that Hermione would trust enough to let help her.

It was mid afternoon and Hermione still stirred restlessly under Viktor's watchful eye. He was gazing upon her when he heard the voices outside and a loud and insistent knock upon the door. He quickly descended the stairs two at a time and flung the door open.

A careworn Minerva McGonagall pushed her way inside followed closely by the lumbering Mad-Eye Moody who wasted no time with pleasantries.

"Where is she?"

Viktor led them both to Hermione's room and stood back a bit as they examined her, answering questions that were hurled at him in quick succession.

McGonagall looked at the wreck of a man beside her questioningly.

"Well Moody what do you think?"

"Ah she's bewitched all right. A favorite trick of the death eaters this is. Make the victim do the dirty work for them. Blimey bastards. They got their hands on her somehow."

Viktor closed his eyes tight at the sudden image of Hermione in the hands of such men. Guilt tore through him like glass.

'When? How did it happen? Why had he allowed them to get their hands on her?'

"Vill she be all right? You can help her, yes?"

"Yes. There are ways to counteract such curses thankfully. I told you Minerva. I told all of you it wasn't over yet. Should have sent every last one of em to Azkaban or better yet finished 'em off for good."

"Moody you know as well as I the ministry did its best to round them up. There was no evidence to hold all of them."

"Look at her then. Is this evidence enough for ya. Weren't Longbottom and them other two evidence enough?

"Three."

Both sets of eyes turned on Viktor.

"What do ya mean three boy?"

"There were three others. The Parvati's. They got one of them as well. I don't know which one."

"How do ye know that?"

"I know who some of them are. I...I might be able to get inside their ranks."

"Then we definitely have much to talk about. But first lets rid our Hermione of whatever control they have over her shall we?"

"Please. It von't hurt her vill it?"

"Aye, a bit. You might prefer to wait outside boy. I said there was a cure, I didn't say it was going to be pretty."

Viktor staunchly refused to leave and braced himself as Moody shrugged at his refusal and began to perform a counter-curse that caused her to cry out and writhe in pain. Ten minutes later she stilled and Moody and a teary McGonagall stood to address a now very pale Viktor.

"She'll be out for awhile, but she'll be just fine. I wish I could say the same for the others."

Mad-Eye shook his head angrily.

"Merlin knows how many others we don't even know about yet. Out there walking around like time bombs. I warned you Minerva."

Viktor closed his eyes and spoke lowly.

"You might vant to check on Veasley?"

McGonagall looked at him sharply.

"Arthur?"

"No, his son. The youngest one."

"Ron? Why?"

"Let's just say he is not himself and I have information that suggests he vas also bewitched. He may haff been the first. Something vent vrong though. They said it didn't vork the vay they planned. He vill need your help also."

Moody nodded grimly.

"I'll fetch the boy. Bring him here. Then you and I need to talk. You seem to have a wee bit more knowledge of this whole mess than you should. I'll be very interested in finding out why that is boy."

Viktor was not looking forward to that conversation. Admitting his family were death eaters and that they were responsible for so much pain and death would not be pleasant. Having Hermione know that his family may have been responsible for the death of her friends and her own harrowing ordeal was almost unbearable. How would she ever be able to look at him again after what they had put her through? But he had no choice. He would need help if he was going to pull this whole thing off. He looked down at Hermione now sleeping peacefully and a far more powerful emotion replaced the fear in his heart. He no longer wanted to simply stop them, he wanted vengeance. Retribution for all the pain they had caused her. The thought of their filthy hands on her made his blood boil in his veins. They were going to pay and pay dearly.


	9. Chapter 9

Hermione slowly fought her way back into consciousness. The first thing she became aware of was someone stroking her hair and a warm hand gently enveloping her own. Her eyes slowly opened to the welcome sight of Viktor's dark eyes gazing down at her.

"Hey there."

"Viktor? What am I doing here? I..."

She stopped in mid sentence as the memories of the past 24 hours began to filter into her consciousness.

"Oh God."

"Do you remember vhat has happened?"

"Yes."

He brushed a loose tendril from her face and tightened his grip on her hand.

"Can you tell me?"

She swallowed hard and looked up into his eyes, swimming with a mixture of concern and anger. He spoke not a word as she told him how she was abducted from the back yard.

"I was so stupid Viktor. I walked right into it."

"You vere not stupid. Vas not your fault."

"I tried to fight them. I messed up. I was so scared I couldn't think straight."

"There vere four of them Hermione. No vone could haff fought off four death eaters at vonce. Do you know vhere they took you?"

"No, I was out cold the whole time. Woke up in some kind of cell."

"Do you remember anything about it?"

"Not really. It was so cold and...dark."

Viktor's jaw clenched at the thought of her thrown into a dark cell somewhere all alone.

"Vhat happened? Do you remember?"

Hermione saw the restrained fury in his face and decided it would be best to omit how she was molested for the time being. Instead she told him about the curse they put on her, the voice, the way they were able to determine what her greatest fear was and use it against her.

"I've never heard of a curse like that Viktor. It was...horrible."

"Moody knows about them. Old magic, dark magic."

"Moody was here?"

"You don't remember?"

She sifted through her most recent memories.

"He..he took the curse of me didn't he? Professor McGonagall was here too wasn't she?"

"She still is. Moody went to get...someone. He'll be back."

"Why?"

"Hermione, there is something I need to tell you."

"What is it? Somethings wrong isn't it?"

"I know who is behind all of this. I know who did this to you and the others."

"Who?"

"Remember when I told you of my...family?"

"Of course."

"I haff listened to their hatred my whole life, but I neffer thought...if I had known they vere capable of such things..."

As the meaning of his halting words became all too clear, her heart ached at the distress in his voice.

"Oh Viktor. You're family is involved in all of this? Are you sure?"

"Yes. I am sorry Hermione. Please forgive me. If I had known..."

"Forgive you? Viktor, there is nothing to forgive."

The guilt in his eyes made it glaringly obvious he didn't believe her. She sat up and looked into his eyes.

"Viktor, this is not your fault. I'd be dead right now if it wasn't for you. You are not responsible for your family."

He gazed into her eyes and saw none of the recrimination or disgust that he had been expecting. Her unwavering belief in him made him even more sure of his decision.

"Either vay, I am going to stop them Hermione."

His words sent a chill through her heart.

"What do you mean stop them? How?"

"They think I vish to become one of them. If I can make them accept me, I can find out who their leaders are."

"Become one of them? No! Viktor, don't do this."

"Hermione, I haff to do this."

"No you don't. Let Moody and the aurors take care of it, That's their job, not yours!"

"I can't do that."

"Why not? Tell me why it has to be you."

"Hermione. it could take months, years even for the aurors to round them all up. The truth is they may never find them all. How many people will be hurt before then? I have a chance to stop them all, now. I need to do this. I cannot stand by and allow people... allow you to be hurt. Do not ask me to do that. I cannot. I love you."

Seeing the resolve in his eyes, she knew any attempts to dissuade him would be pointless.

"You don't have to do this alone. Is Moody going to help you?"

"I believe so. He vants to hear vhat I know."

"Why did he leave then? Where did he go?"

Viktor took a deep steadying breath before answering.

"He vent to get Veasley."

"Mr. Weasley? What can he do?"

"No, he vent to get...Ron."

She looked at him silently for a long moment before responding.

"Ron? Why?"

"Hermione. Ron...he vas also bewitched. Like you vere."

The color drained from her face at his words.

"When?"

"I do not know. Some time ago. Before the others. He vas sort of test case. The curse didn't go quite right though."

Hermione took in his words silently. She felt suddenly shaky and sick.

"Is that why...why he did what he did? Is that why he changed?"

This was the question he had been dreading having to answer. The moment he had to tell her that she had been wrong about Ron. That he hadn't meant to hurt her. He had avoided this conversation as long as possible, knowing full well it might send her back into the arms of another. He didn't want to lose her, but that dreaded moment was upon him regardless.

"Yes. I believe so. Moody went to find him. He is bringing him back here. He will be fine as soon as he is freed from the curse."

Hermione's mind reeled over his words. Why hadn't she seen? Why was she so quick to believe Ron would knowingly hurt her? They had been friends for so long and she had just abandoned him. She had run out on him when he needed her the most. What kind of person would do that to someone they cared about.

Viktor blanched at the guilt flooding her eyes. He had expected just this reaction, but it didn't make it any easier to watch.

"Hermione, is not your fault. How could you haff known?"

"I should have known though. It was Ron. I knew it wasn't like him. I shouldn't have run off like that."

"Hermione, if you had stayed eventually he vould haff hurt you. He vould not haff vanted to, but he vould haff. You did the right thing Hermione. For both of you. And... I am not sorry you came to me."

She suddenly noticed the pain in his voice and realized how hard it must have been for him to be the one to tell her this. She didn't want him to think that she regretted finding him again, no matter how painful the reason for it was. She reached up and laid her hand against his cheek.

"That's not what I meant Viktor. I'm not sorry about that. I just...."

He took her hand and kissed her palm.

"I am sorry. I should not haff said that. You haff enough to think about right now."

"Viktor, I'm not sorry I came to you."

He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers and for a moment all the guilt and confusion disappeared and there was only Viktor.

A loud disturbance from downstairs ended their kiss abruptly. The unmistakable sound of Ron's voice brought reality crashing through. Viktor reluctantly released his hold on her and moved away.

"I vill see if I can help. You should probably vait here until the curse is destroyed. Seeing you right now might set him off."

She nodded sadly as she watched him walk away.

Viktor descended the stairs to find Moody and Potter had indeed arrived with a struggling Ron between them.

"Get your hands off me. Where the bloody hell are we?"

He scanned the room with furious eyes and only quieted when his eyes landed on Viktor.

"What the hell is he doing here? Wait...this is Hermione's house isn't it?"

Moody pulled him by the scruff and set him down hard in the sofa chair restraining him with one arm.

"Get your bloody hands off me!"

Moody looked at McGonagall.

"He's cursed all right. Sit still boy!"

Ron's struggles ceased as he suddenly hunched over in pain as the same counter-curse used on Hermione was forcibly applied to him. Once the curse was cleansed from his mind he slowly sat back up, extremely quiet, the anger in his eyes gone.

"What happened? Harry?"

"Take it easy Ron. You had a bit of a nasty curse on you. But you're going to be just fine now."

Ron's eyes clouded over as he began to sift through the memories of the past months.

"Oh my god. What have I done?"

"It wasn't your fault Ron. You didn't have any control over it."

A look of alarm spread across his paling face as certain memories found their way into his consciousness.

"Hermione. I...Where's Hermione?"

"She's fine. I'm afraid they got to her too. She's resting now, and I think you better do the same.

Viktor watched as Ron nodded weakly, all resistance gone. He looked up apprehensively as Moody approached him with stony grimace.

"We need to talk. Now."

----------

Hermione had risen after Viktor's departure, determined not too be a such a burden to everyone. After grimacing at her unkempt reflection in the mirror she showered and sat down to untangle her stubborn curls. She had almost tamed them when a welcome face poked his head in the room.

"Hey, you're not supposed to be up and about yet!"

She smiled at his indignant reprimand.

"I'm fine Harry."

"Hermione."

"I'm fine Harry! I can't just lie around and be useless."

"I hardly think you're being useless Hermione."

"Oh Harry. I've really messed everything up haven't I?"

"You haven't done anything Hermione."

"Haven't I? I left Ron with a curse on him. I didn't do anything to stop it. Why didn't I see it? I didn't even think about why he was acting that way. I just... left."

"There was no way you could have known."

She continued on refusing to listen to any appeasement.

"And now I've gotten Viktor involved in this whole mess."

"No you didn't! Viktor's family was involved long before this Hermione."

"Yes, but he didn't know. He wasn't a part of it. He wouldn't be putting himself in danger if it weren't for me."

"Not because of you Hermione, for you. He loves you."

"I know."

"Hermione, are you in love with him?"

She knew what he wanted to hear, but also knew lying would only make things worse.

"Yes."

Resigned disappointment filled his voice.

"And Ron?"

She shook her head silently before burying her face in her hands.

"Oh God Harry what am I going to do?"

"Tell him the truth. He's got to find out eventually."

"How can I do that? None of this was his fault."

Harry looked at her helplessly, at a loss as to what to say.

"Hey."

Harry and Hermione turned as Ron stuck his head into the room.

"Can I come in?"

Harry backed towards the door sheepishly.

"I'll be downstairs if you need me."

Hermione and Ron simply stared at one another for a long time before he spoke. She looked into his eyes and saw the old Ron again, the same goofy, insecure Ron who she thought she had loved for so long.

"I'm sorry Hermione. I can't believe...I didn't mean to... I would never hurt you like that."

"I know. I shouldn't have left like I did. I wasn't a very good..friend."

"Of course you should have. I'm glad you did. If I had hurt you I wouldn't be able to forgive myself."

"Ron, can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Why only me? I mean, why was it only me you turned on?"

"I'm not sure. Moody says they were using our fears, our weaknesses, our faults against us."

She laughed humorlessly.

"I'm your biggest fault then?"

He looked scandalized at her interpretation of his words.

"No! You aren't the problem Mione. I am. I..I was afraid of being rejected. I always have been, you know that. I guess because we got together my biggest fear was rejection from you. I kept hearing this voice in my head. It kept telling me the only way to stop you from rejecting me was to...hurt you. It's sick, but I couldn't get that voice out of my head."

Hermione could hear the voice so clearly, the same voice that had told her to hurt herself. All the insane things it said had been so reassuring, so right.

"I'm sorry Ron. I should have done something."

"Like what? No. You did the right thing. If you'd stayed....something a lot worse might have happened. I love you Hermione. Anyway, it's over now."

Hermione was rendered mute by the certainty in his face. She felt torn in two. She still cared for him, how could she not after everything they had been through together, but she knew now that she didn't love him, hadn't ever truly loved him as more than a friend. Finding Viktor again had shown her the difference between love and simply caring for someone. But if none of this had happened she would still be with Ron right now, oblivious to the difference. She didn't want to hurt him. None of this was his fault. Looking up at his unknowing face and thinking of Viktor downstairs planning how to take down his own family to protect her, she knew no matter what she did or said now, she would end up hurting someone she cared for.


End file.
